Motherless
by The Lady Fair
Summary: Severus Snape survived the war to keep a promise. Eighteen months later he has almost forgotten another promise he made to his adopted daughter the day she was born. When Hermione Granger is catapulted back into his life, Severus will have a mystery to solve and a chance to make sure his children don't grow up motherless. EWE/somewhat NCC, SSHG, Rated M for a handful of scenes
1. 1) May 2, 1998

**.**

 **Chapter 1**

 **.**

 ** _May 2, 1998_**

Severus Snape had been conscious for exactly thirty-nine minutes before he apparated away from the Shrieking Shack. Phoenix tears, a bezoar and a clever antivenom he'd created to "help" the Dark Lord make Nagini's torture last had done exactly what he'd hoped they would do and now, blood drying against his skin as the bite wound slowly closed in on itself, he was on the move again. Whilst the battle raged at Hogwarts, the tug of apparation took Severus to a quiet street in what he suspected was the middle of Ireland. Where he was didn't matter as much as why, though, and he strode down the street until he felt a pull of magic tugging him toward a quaint, one-story home.

The wards seemed to share his sense of defeat as they acknowledged his presence and allowed him to pass over the crisp, well-cut lawn and through the blue-painted front door. Severus Snape was a man who was always prepared. His backup plans had backup plans and he was not prone to underthink things the way certain former students did. While that foolish Potter boy got himself killed to save everyone in the wizarding world, Severus was following up on the last promise he had made. One he had hoped to never need to keep.

With his magic tugging him through the house, Severus barely spared a glance at the sparse furnishings or photos hung on the walls. He let himself be directed down the lone hallway and to a closed door. There he hesitated, casting a handful of cleansing spells to get as much blood and dirt off him as possible before he knocked once–lightly–and opened the door.

"P-professor…"

Two long strides carried Severus from the doorway to the small twin bed where Sassa Rowle laid drenched in sweat. Her stomach protruded into the air and her hands rubbed it with every contraction and her skin was pale and off-color. Configuring a chair from one of the stuffed toys strewn about the room, he slid next to her and reached for her hand.

"How long?" he asked.

Sassa was a lovely witch, even as sickly as she was. Not a day older than twenty-five with beautiful golden curls and eyes as blue as robins eggs. Severus had known her since she was a knock-kneed eleven-year-old trotting over to the Slytherin table. His musings ceased as she rhythmically clenched his hand, noisily breathing her way through the contractions. It seemed to him they were coming one on top of the other and he reluctantly transfigured her robes into a short hospital gown to allow himself more access. Their time was short.

"Thirty-four hours," she finally gasped.

Arching his eyebrow, Severus nodded. "And Calder?"

Hissing, Sassa attempted to sit up and failed. Instead she waved her hand in the air and gasped out, "I put him in our room. S-said goodbye. Sleeping potion. D-didn… Didn't want him to see…"

Mournfully Severus nodded his head. She didn't want him to see her die. Shedding his frock coat, he rolled what remained of his shirt sleeves up his arms and murmured yet another set of cleansing spells. Moving his position to the bottom of the bed, he laid a hand on the young woman's knee. He himself wasn't looking forward to that but they'd been prepared for this day for years. Ever since Voldemort punished her for having Calder. Severus looked over Sassa's arcing stomach and met her gaze, seeking permission.

"The Dark Lord?" She asked.

"The boy will be defeating him any time now."

"G-good. And Thorfinn?"

Severus shushed her. They both knew he wouldn't be there if Thorfinn was still alive. "You need to save your strength."

She nodded and her eyes fluttered closed as Severus went to work checking the labor's progression. His adam's apple bobbed up and down as he buried his guilt and shame beneath a layer of cool professionalism. Sassa was farther along than he had dared to hope, of course he'd always been a pessimist, but Severus tucked the sheets around her hips anyway, preserving as much of her modesty as possible given the circumstances.

"I want you to start pushing soon," he said.

Sassa whimpered but nodded. As Severus leaned back in his chair to wait for the next contraction, she bent forward and patted his hand with her clammy one.

"Professor?"

"Save your strength, Sassa," he snapped, meeting her eyes at the insistent patting of her hand.

Her blue gaze was piercing and she looked as determined as she had when he told her she couldn't get an O in Potions. "Don't let my daughter be born into a world where He's alive."

Clenching his own jaw, Severus nodded. They didn't have much time to wait before the curse took Sassa and the child but he knew Potter couldn't procrastinate too much longer. The wizarding world was hurtling to its fate and, with the memories he'd let the boy collect, he knew it wouldn't take long for it all to end. One way or another. Merlin, he hoped that boy wasn't incapable of finishing it.

It wasn't until he felt his arm split open, the curse of the Dark Mark ripping through flesh as the caster died, that Severus ordered Sassa to push. He stemmed the flow of blood as much as possible, twisting a pale blue set of sheets from the dresser around his arm before coaxing Sassa's child from her dying body. Not that it mattered much. He waited until Sassa's final heartbeat stuttered to silence before he cut the cord, stowing the precious ingredient away in a spare vial as he cradled the sobbing infant to his chest. Looking down into the babe's innocent face, Severus Snape brushed a finger across her cheek. She ceased her cries and he spoke a blessing over her.

"Child born of a curse. Fatherless. Motherless. Accept me and I will be your father. Trust me and I will find you a mother. May your life never know the struggle and sorrow of your parents. May you never know the terror or witness the horrors I have. Receive this blessing, child, and accept me."

The baby blinked in response. Magic settled around them like a warm cloak and Severus felt a twinge in his heart as she accepted him. Running a long finger down the babe's cheek, he whispered the name her parents had chosen over her. Their last gift to the child they would never meet.

"Sassa Honoria Snape."

Five minutes later, Severus Snape left the Rowle home. In one hand he held a basket, with his newborn charge tucked inside. In the other he carried a young boy no older than three, his blond hair bright against Severus' dark cloak. Without looking back at the home where Sassa Rowle's body remained, Severus pulled both children close to him and thought of home. Books, tea, potions. Home.

* * *

 _ **Thank you for reading. I intend to publish each chapter as they are edited so there won't be a set schedule but you can expect at least one chapter a week. This story should not be more than 20 chapters long and completely disregards giant chunks of canon as well as the epilogue.**_

 _ **Blessings.**_


	2. 2) January 22, 2000

**.**

 **Chapter 2**

 **.**

 _ **January 22, 2000**_

Words escaped Hermione as she stared at the strange pair of heels in her living room. This really couldn't be happening again… he'd promised. Curiosity and defeat twisted in her gut and lured her past the bright pink heels and down the hall. A discarded dress here, a Quidditch tee there and a couple of lace underthings at the wide open doorway forewarned what she was going to find as soon as she rounded the doorframe.

Except she wasn't stupid enough to do so without covering her eyes first. Treading blindly across the carpet, Hermione stubbed her toe on the corner of the bed and hissed loudly. The smell and taste of too-much cologne assaulted her senses and she felt across the linens until her hand encountered a naked, hairy leg.

She shook it. "Ron?"

The man groaned and she shook the leg harder. "Ronald!"

"Whadaya want, Mione?" Came the sleep-garbled reply.

"You're in my bed," she said, even though it should have been obvious.

"No I'm not," he argued.

Sighing, Hermione pulled a couple of wiry hairs out of his leg. He swore and sat up, encircling her wrist with his hand. Still hiding behind the cover of her own hand, Hermione perched herself on the edge of the bed.

"Are you decent?"

Ron let go of her and the bed wobbled for several moments. The slithering of her favorite silk sheets across flesh was wearying and she sighed again as he grunted, "Yeah."

"Both of you?" she asked.

Grumbling about her lack of trust, Ron pulled her hand away from her face. Crust had gathered in the corners of his eyes and his red hair stuck out every direction. At least he was smart enough to look chagrined, Hermione thought as she looked past him to the dark, sexy arch of a miscellaneous witch's shoulder. The rest of her was, thankfully, covered.

Hermione stared at Ron until he met her gaze. Brushing a lock of hair out of his face, she sighed again. "I asked you to stop using my apartment for your trysts, Ronald," she said, trying to channel as much of her inner Molly Weasley as she could at four-thirty-four in the freaking morning.

"But you're never here," he argued. "And you know what Ginny would do if I brought one of these girls to Grimmauld Place."

Had she become a sighing machine? Hermione tried to consciously stop with the breathy sounds that escaped her every time she was around Ron. But boy was he exasperating.

And right.

Ginny would promptly bully any of Ron's many girlfriends into marrying her brother if she caught even a whiff of the relationships. While Hermione thought it might do Ron a bit of good to just pick one and settle down already, she certainly wasn't in any position to tell him how to manage his own life. They'd tried that after the war. It lasted exactly three weeks. But Ginny Weasley wasn't as lenient as her. She'd have her brother hitched yesterday if she had her way.

"Alright," Hermione conceded, getting up and ruffling his hair a little more. "But I'm sleeping in the guest room so don't even think about having a nice lie in after she wakes up."

Ron smiled and Hermione felt her heart flop a little. Though they weren't meant to be together–literally no one in the Wizarding world would argue that fact–there was still a little part of her heart that would always belong to Ronald Weasley, the boy she loved first.

"Thanks, Mione," he said, laying back on the pillows. "You're the best."

"I know. But you still owe me two sets of new, thousand-thread count Egyptian Cotton sheets. I'll send you the owl order."

Ron's groan chased her out of the room until she shut the door on them. A quick, modified accio sent the mystery woman's clothes into a neat pile just outside the master bedroom before Hermione padded down the hall to her guest bedroom. She'd been out gathering potions ingredients during the full moon and figured Ron and his lady friend would be gone by the time she woke up. Which she was hoping would be some time after noon.

* * *

Severus Snape woke up to the sound of his floo igniting. Had he fallen asleep on the couch again? Grumbling, he rolled himself upright and wondered just who had the bright idea to make a piece of furniture that was perfectly comfortable to sit on but torture to sleep on. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes in time for the flames in his hearth to flash bright green. A bubbly little boy burst out from them, saw Severus and smiled a wide, toothy grin.

"Daddy!"

Severus caught Calder as the four-year-old launched himself at him, smiling in spite of himself as he hugged the boy back.

"Did you have fun with Uncle Lucius?" he asked as the fire flared green again.

"Uh-huh," Calder said, "We played Catch the Pygmy Puff and Dragon Stomps and gotta meet baby Scorpius and Unca Luci let me ride on his broom."

"Did he?" Severus asked, turning to watch Lucius step out of the fire with his daughter on his hip. Calder continued on, unaware of how much trouble he'd gotten his adopted uncle into.

"You'll never guess what Calder just told me, Luci," Severus all but purred, reaching for his daughter.

The bouncing little girl on Lucius' hip giggled with delight, her wild blonde curls tickling Severus' hands as he swept her out of her Uncle's arms. "Hello, precious," he murmured, kissing her temple.

"Dada." She wrapped her chubby little arms around his neck and they both turned their gaze on a very disconcerted Lucius. The aristocrat adjusted his cravat and made a move for the floo powder but Severus was much quicker. With a flick of his wand, the porcelain lid slammed shut on Lucius' fingers and both the kids giggled as their uncle bit back a curse.

"My toes didn't even leave the grass," Lucius assured him.

Calder stood up on the couch, his face full of mischief as he wagged his head. "Nuh-uh, Unca Luci. Member how you took us up over the lake and we did the loop-di-loop?"

Lucius blanched and Severus scowled. "You said you didn't even own a broom!"

Tossing his long, silver-blonde hair over his shoulder, Lucius stood up to his full height and looked down his nose at Severus like the pompous aristocrat he was. "And _you_ are the one who believed such a ridiculous lie."

"Well then, _you_ will just have to watch the kids during the next full moon to make up for it."

As Severus' scowl turned to a smirk, Lucius realized the trap he'd walked into and grinned broadly. "I think I can manage that."

Both men chuckled and Lucius plucked Calder off the couch on his way to the kitchen. Severus asked Sassa how her overnight was. She babbled back at him, a handful of real words mixed in with lots of random noises. He responded anyway, systematically asking questions for her to respond to intelligibly as they moved to the small informal dining room.

Plunking Sassa into her high-chair next to her brother, Severus joined Lucius in the kitchen and they set about making breakfast. Lucius had the pot on for tea and Severus filled the sippy cups with water and just a little dab of pumpkin juice. He didn't like them to have too much juice in the mornings. Managing two toddlers in a busy store was hard enough without the added sugar. As Lucius turned to head back to the table, the one domestic act he knew how to do completed, Severus started frying the eggs.

"Did the harvest go well last night?" Lucius asked as soon as Severus joined them.

Severus nodded as he stuck the kid's plates to the table and high chair with sticking spells. It had only taken him forty-seven broken plates in four months to figure out that trick. The kids tucked into their scrambled eggs and Severus took a sip of his tea.

"There was more fluxweed again this month," he shared after they both had started in on their meals–a small breakfast of fried sausages and eggs.

"And?" Lucius prompted, dabbing moisture away from his lips with a silk handkerchief.

Severus propped his chin on his knuckles, curling his lip unconsciously as he thought about his discovery last night. For over six months he'd noticed that the amount of harvestables during the full moon had been slowly increasing. In his twenty-some years of gathering potions ingredients, he'd always worried about there being a shortage of plants. Carefully rotating through half a dozen sites so he wouldn't overtax any one area, he had never taken more than he absolutely needed. Even though he hardly needed potions ingredients anymore, he still practiced the monthly habit of going out on the full moon and gathering just a few. Just in case.

But recently…

"I believe there were some dittany sprouts in the Forbidden Forest," he admitted.

Lucius nearly dropped his teacup. "That's impossible."

Severus shrugged. "We live in a world filled with magic. Nothing is impossible."

"But it annoys you?" Lucius pegged Severus in an instant, his comment nailing down the exact reason Severus had found himself spending all night apparating to site after site to see if there were any other changes. There had been. Too many to be a fluke.

"Of course it does," Severus snarled, tampering his temper down with the kids at the table. Sassa looked at him with wide blue eyes and he managed to flash his teeth at her. It was more of a grimace than anything, but she was too young to know the difference and went back to her eggs happily. "Hypothetically someone could be planting seedlings each month to increase the harvest. But I would have noticed them last year."

"And any seedlings planted this winter would have died outside a greenhouse," Lucius added.

"Yes," Severus agreed. "It's like they're planting and growing to maturation all in a single night."

Lucius shrugged and stood up to clear the table. A swish of his wand was all it took to send the plates and cups to the sink and set them to washing. Sassa and Calder giggled as he made Severus' teacup do a loop-di-loop midair before plunging into the suds-filled sink.

"Well," Lucius said. "I guess you'll have to wait until next month and see if you can catch the culprit."

"Hmmm," Severus agreed, his mind preoccupied as he let Calder and Sassa down from their chairs. "Next month."

Lucius smiled. "You get the kids ready. I'll head down and open up."


	3. 3) February 12, 2000

**.**

 **Chapter 3**

 **.**

 _ **February 12, 2000**_

Hermione took several deep breaths to control herself as she walked down the road from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade, a bank note tucked securely within her robes. Normally she didn't care for such formality, preferring muggle clothing to the stuffy layers of cloth that covered everything but left her feeling exposed, but today was a special day and it deserved the formality of robes.

She released a hiss of excitement as she passed into the village, studiously ignoring the bookstore. It had been renovated since her time at Hogwarts, the window displays a siren call to her, but she successfully ignored it and turned down another street. She had business to attend to.

J Pippins Potions looked larger than life with its misaligned stones, steepled roof and hand-crafted oriel window. For years Hermione had ignored the little shop unless she was desperately low on ingredients for school. But now… Squaring her shoulders and flipping her tamed curls over her shoulders, Hermione couldn't help the grin that broke out on her face. Now she had saved enough galleons to walk in and offer J Pippins himself the retirement he'd been yearning for.

Marching up the steps, Hermione took a single deep breath to calm herself before entering the potions shop.

"Good morning," Mr. Pippins called from the back.

Hermione had to meander through the maze of ceiling-high shelves toward the back before she saw Mr. Pippins. The old wizard was looking even more stooped and weary since she'd seen him last. Of course that had been five years and a Wizarding war ago, so she shouldn't really have been that surprised. But the deep lines that etched his face reminded her of Professor Flitwick's last year and the glint had gone out of his eye just like Dumbledore's had before the curse took him.

Shaking her head to clear the cobwebs, Hermione extended a hand. "Good morning, Mr. Pippins. How do you do?"

He shook her hand and they exchanged pleasantries briefly before Mr. Pippins offered her a stool. Taking it, Hermione smoothed out her robes and looked the proprietor straight in the eye.

"Mr. Pippins, sir, I am here today with an offer to buy your store," she said just like she'd practiced at home.

The only sign the former potioneer was surprised by Hermione's statement was his eyebrow. It twiched minutely before settling.

"My _family_ business?" he murmured. Hermione fought not to lean forward to hear him. The potions master was playing a game she couldn't afford to lose and was far better at manipulation than she. "How could you ever expect me to sell it?"

"You never had any children," Hermione pointed out. "It's either sell to someone willing to keep your brand, your _family name_ , alive or let the business die with you."

Mr. Pippins nodded, stroking his chin with knobbly fingers as his eyes narrowed to slits. "And to think, Miss Granger, for the price of forty thousand galleons, my well known name and business could be yours."

His top price was lower than she expected and Hermione bit her cheek to keep from smiling. That would be an amateur tell. "I wouldn't pay forty thousand galleons for Dumbledore's name. I'll give you ten."

"Preposterous. This business has been here since Hogsmeade was built. Thirty-two."

"Fourteen," Hermione countered.

"Twenty-nine five."

"Nineteen."

"Twenty-four and that's the lowest you'll get out of me, you ungrateful muggleborn."

"Agreed," Hermione said, reaching into her robes and pulling out the bank note. "I'll of course add on extra for your stock."

Faced with a goblin-signed banknote made out for exactly 32,784 galleons, Mr. Pippins conjured a kerchief and wiped his brow. Taking a quill from the cup by the till, he signed the note with a flourish.

"Finally sold the muggle house," he speculated under his breath.

Not quietly enough. Hermione tensed, her mind conjuring the image of her parent's picture-perfect, canary yellow home before it had been burned to the ground by Death Eaters. Ignoring the way her insides twisted with guilt, she squared her shoulders and cleared her throat. She waited until Mr. Pippins met her gaze before speaking.

"The lot wasn't worth much, actually. I'm holding on until the market swings. Being a war-heroine has its own rewards, however."

Mr. Pippins laughed. The wheezing sound wasn't much comfort to Hermione but it did restore the twinkle to his old eyes. She returned his smile with a smirk of her own, glad she'd gained the old Slytherin's approval.

"I'd like to hold a grand re-opening of the shop in a couple weeks," she said, hoping her intentions to take over that soon wouldn't spoil the deal. "It would be an honor if you could attend."

"Wouldn't miss it," Mr. Pippins said, accioing the deed and signing it over. He passed Hermione the quill and watched her sign. "I think you'll do just fine here, Miss Granger. Just fine."

* * *

Severus was ignoring a shipment of rare books that had been, as usual, two days late. Lucius had taken the children upstairs for their morning nap–a respite the blond man seemed to enjoy himself–an hour ago and Severus didn't want to waste the rare moment of peace and quiet. Tomes & Scrolls was rarely busy unless it was a Hogsmeade weekend at the school but with two active toddlers and a whiny pureblood prat of a partner, Severus rarely had time for himself.

Halfway through a fascinating study on the effectiveness of gathering potions ingredients during a full lunar eclipse, Severus didn't even hear the bell tinkling to alert him to a customer. He sipped his tea and leaned even closer to the book that was splayed across the shop counter, his nose nearly touching the fine linen pages.

"It might be time to consider getting reading glasses, Mister Snape."

Glancing up at his guest, whose cheeks were bright pink from the cold outside, Severus curled his lip into something resembling a snarl. It was harder to do than he remembered. "Waltzing into a bookstore, bushy hair flying around and unable to keep her opinions to yourself… what an unpleasant surprise, Miss Granger."

Her lips curled into a delicious, self-satisfied smile that made Severus shift uncomfortably in his chair. She'd certainly grown into her looks. Strolling across the room, her fingers playing along the bindings of books, Granger took her time reaching the counter opposite him. She waited for him to fold a bookmark between the pages of his book before sliding a bright green square of paper across the counter.

"I'd like to invite you to the re-opening of J Pippins Potions in two weeks time. All Hogsmeade residents will be treated to a twenty percent discount on any rare ingredients purchased that day."

As he read the eloquently worded invitation–it was more of a coupon, he supposed–Severus couldn't help but arch his eyebrow. "I wasn't aware you were so interested in potioneering."

She chuckled, the sound light and pretty like the bells on his door. Transfiguring a quill into a stool, she sat herself down across the counter from him and propped her chin on her hand.

"Yes," she said. Severus wondered when the swatty little know-it-all he remembered from Hogwarts had turned into this amenable creature. "It would be hard to know what interests me now, seeing how you've been avoiding me and everyone else for the past two years."

Perhaps amenable was too strong a word he thought and narrowed his eyes.

As if sensing his thoughts, Hermione chuckled and laid a hand on his. "I can't blame you. If I had a knut for every time I'd thought of running away…."

Her voice dropped off wistfully. The feel of her hand on his was odd and not unpleasant but Severus withdrew from her touch anyway.

"You think I ran away?" he asked, surprised that he didn't sound bitter.

"I think you cleverly avoided the spotlight and wish I had done the same."

"Hmmm."

She chuckled again, tossing her hair and standing up from the stool. "Perhaps that's more than you wanted to know about me today. I've got a few more shops to hit up before I head back to London. If you're free on the 26th, I'd love to see you at the opening."

"Why?"

"I'm stocking quite a few rare ingredients for my opening. Ditany, fluxweed, dragon's blood… it will be a great chance to snag some on sale. Assuming you still brew?"

"Of course," he said, not really willing to admit that he hadn't brewed anything except a pepper-up potion since the war. It was too risky to set up a cauldron in the kitchen with two children underfoot… not that she needed to know that either.

Hermione smiled. "Of course."

As quick as she had come, she was gone, leaving only the green coupon behind. Severus fingered the thin paper. Had she said fluxweed? And dittany… he palmed the sheet into a pocket and wondered if she collected her own ingredients before what sounded like a stampede of hippogriffs shook the ceiling above him, interrupting his train of thought.

Pushing himself off the stool, Severus turned in time to catch Calder and Sassa–who had only recently learned to toddle–in a warm hug. He smirked at Lucius, who was tying his hair back and straightening his robes.

"Did you three have a nice nap?" he asked, unable to keep the sneer from his voice.

Lucius checked that the kids weren't watching and responded with a rude gesture.

* * *

 _ **Thank you for reading! I'm so appreciative of the response to this fic. Sorry about the delay in this chapter.**_ _ **I'm on my first vacation in two years and hoping to get some valuable writing time in while I'm bouncing around states. That also means I may not be able to publish another chapter this week although we'll see how much down time and wifi I can find.**_

 _ **Blessings.**_


	4. 4) February 19, 2000, Part 1

**.**

 **Chapter 4**

 **.**

 _ **February 19, 2000, Part 1**_

Hermione drummed her fingers on the scarred wooden table she was waiting at. Though the Hog's Head wasn't her favorite place to go in Hogsmeade–she much preferred the cheery atmosphere of the Three Broomsticks–she felt she owed it to Aberforth to visit at least once a month. He had, after all, been instrumental in protecting the students at Hogwarts while she, Harry and Ron were on the run. Besides, she thought as she took a sip of her butterbeer, the Hog's Head was a much better place to meet people. Fewer patrons, less noise and more room to cast a successful silencing charm so your business wouldn't be overheard.

She'd discovered in the week she'd owned J Pippins Potions that she had quickly become the topic of most conversations and gossip. It didn't help that she'd shut the shop down for renovations, of course, but the amount of talk about it was astonishing. Half the town thought she was Mr. Pippin's estranged pureblood daughter finally coming into her inheritance. Laughable, that. The other half thought she'd either swindled the business from him or offered him so many galleons the man had gone off to Tahiti to live out the rest of his days soaking in the sun. No matter what they thought, Hermione hoped all the interest in her would pay off big once she finally re-opened the shop.

Glancing at the door for the hundredth time, she wondered if she ought to send a patronus to remind Ron about their meeting. He really was the worst about being prompt and today of all days she didn't need him tromping in an hour late with meaningless apologies on his lips. Just as she grabbed her wand to send the patronus, the door swept open and Ron met her gaze with a lopsided grin.

"Worried I'd be late?" he said loudly as he made his way over.

Hermione snorted. "I knew you'd be late. I was worried it would be an hour or more."

Throwing himself into a chair the way she swore only a Weasley boy could do, Ron signalled for a butterbeer. "Got a hot date you didn't want me to interrupt or something?"

If she had been meeting anyone else after she was done with Ron, Hermione would have said yes. Just to see him get flustered and upset. But sometimes Ron still got jealous over her–Merlin only knew why–and Hermione would rather not have him irrationally attacking the person she was hoping would be her supplier. That definitely wouldn't be a good first impression.

"No, but I thought I'd take a nap before heading out to gather tonight." She did intend to take a nap later, so it wasn't a complete lie, but she could see Ron trying to work out if she was telling the truth or not.

"The full moon," she elaborated, gesturing vaguely to the windows.

"Oh," he said, glancing at her slyly as he realized that meant her flat would be available. "Do you think I could bring Cecelia over?"

"I thought you had a game?"

Ron's offended stare told Hermione she'd gotten his schedule wrong again. "That was last week. Seriously, Mione, it's like you purposely forget so you don't have to watch them."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She didn't purposefully forget; she just found that after spending the majority of her childhood keeping track of Ron and Harry's schedules, she was sick of managing their lives for them. Besides, she thought, it wasn't as if Ron's schedule was as easy as Double Potions on Thursday at three. The man played quidditch and muggle football professionally as well as joining Harry on the Ministry's inter-departmental sports league. She was lucky she'd pinned him down for a quick pint on such short notice; he never seemed to be around anymore. Unless, of course, he was borrowing her flat.

Ron snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Earth to Mione."

"Sorry," she said, realizing she'd been lost in thought again. "I actually wanted to talk to you about that. I don't think you should use my flat for your little trysts anymore."

"B-but… Mione, you know Gin would castrate me if I took a gal home."

"More like force you into a shotgun wedding. She wants more nieces and nephews apparently. Castration would be the last thing on her mind."

As Ron blanched at the suggestion of a wedding involving muggle firearms, Hermione polished off her butterbeer and reached into her purse. "But I'm not really worried about Ginny, Ron. The fact of the matter is I've bought out the potions shop here in Hogsmeade and won't be using my flat anymore."

"You bought the potions shop?" Ron zeroed in on the detail she'd hoped would disinterest him most. "Does Harry know?"

Huffing, Hermione withdrew the piece of parchment she'd been looking for and scowled at Ron. "No. Honestly, I only bought it a week ago, it's not like–"

"How long have you been thinking about it, though? It's not like you to rush into something like this. Not without talking it out with Harry or me."

She waved a hand in the air. "I already bought it and we're talking now. What matters is I've got three months left on my lease and–"

"What about your job?" Ron interrupted, reaching across the table and grabbing her hands. "I mean, you weren't planning on running a potions shop and working at the Ministry, were you?"

Well damn. She was really hoping to distract him with the business about the flat. Signalling Aberforth for another butterbeer, Hermione stroked her thumb across the back of Ron's hand in a way that used to soothe him and wished she could be drinking firewhiskey instead. It would have made this conversation easier or, if not easier, more tolerable on her part.

"Honestly? I left the Ministry six months ago."

Ron flushed red and stood up, knocking his chair over as he bellowed, "You did what? You loved that job. You bullied Kingsley into hiring you before you even passed your NEWTs. How on earth could you just leave and not tell anyone? Do you know how insane you sound right now?"

Wishing she had cast a silencing charm around them earlier, Hermione smiled nervously at the half-dozen or so patrons who were gawking openly at Ron. She grabbed his shirt sleeve from across the table and tugged on it.

"Ron, please. Sit down," she hissed. "You're making a scene."

He obliged her but she could see the muscles in his jaw working to contain his notorious Weasley temper. She cast a silent silencio around them and wondered why she'd ever thought this conversation would go smoothly.

Oh right, she was an optimist.

It was hard to pinpoint just when she'd started loathing her job. Ron was right; she had begged Kingsley for the Ministry job and been quite proud of it. But she hadn't realized how tired she was of getting chewed up and spit back out by the machine that was the Ministry until she overheard one of the old geezers from the Wizengamot mention that JP was talking about selling his potions shop. Almost without realizing it, she'd dropped her files in the shred, flipped off the elderly wizards who had been the bane of her existence for a year and marched out of the Ministry without even bothering to quit. It was the single most sound decision she thought she'd made since the war.

She hadn't meant to not tell anyone about leaving. But as soon as she'd arrived home, Hermione had dedicated herself to purchasing J Pippins Potions. Between traversing across the world in search of dragon scales and dittany, reading everything on business and potioneering she could get her hands on and getting her finances in order at Gringotts, Hermione hadn't realized how little she'd communicated with her friends. It had been full-on prep mode and, she sighed, she was never a very good friend in prep mode.

When she was sure Ron wouldn't explode again, she pushed the paper on the table over to him. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Or Harry. There wasn't a good reason and I won't make an excuse. But it's already done so can we just move past it? Please?"

After what felt like eternity but was probably less than a minute, Ron dipped his chin in a gesture Hermione took as acquiescence. Sighing with relief, she continued, "What I was saying is I still have a few months left on my lease. I know you like staying at Grimmauld Place with Harry and Gin but, if you wanted, I would be willing to let you live in the flat for half rent until it's up."

Ron's jaw dropped. "Wha–?"

Drumming her fingers on the table again, Hermione arched an eyebrow at her friend. She could literally see him processing the information she'd just dumped into his lap. The confusion. The understanding. And in three, two, one...

"Blimey. Are you for real right now, Mione?"

The excitement.

She nodded, smiling. "I figured you might like to have a place to call your own when you're in town. And since you couldn't possibly settle down with a nice girl to introduce to your sister, I may as well let out my flat to you. It's not like you're not already using it and this way I'll get a few galleons out of the desecration of my bed."

The smile on Ron's face was completely worth it as she shoved the sublet notice into his hands and he skimmed over the terms. She never understood how Ron could just glance at a contract and sign it without reading the fine print but she supposed he trusted her to do it. Tapping a finger to her lips, she wondered if she'd coddled the boys too much in school. Maybe if she'd let them make their own study schedules they would be more responsible.

As Ron signed the sublet with his jerky, squared-off signature, Hermione hummed to herself. If she'd done that they wouldn't need her as much. And she kind of liked being needed by her boys.

"I'll pay the full rent," Ron said.

"Don't worry about it, you're helping me enough by subletting. It would be prohibitively expensive if I had to back out of the lease, considering I just emptied my Gringotts account to buy a potions shop."

Ron patted her hand and drained the last half of his butterbeer. "It's not like I don't have the galleons, Mione. Besides, I may as well get used to paying the whole rent now. Decide if your flat is worth holding onto when the sublet is up."

"If you want to," Hermione agreed. Ron may not need the galleons and not having to pay any part of her rent would really help her out right now. She had to find a supplier and soon if her store was to run smoothly. Still, she didn't want to take advantage. "Just let me know if you change your mind."

Ron rolled his eyes at her, slipped a few galleons onto the table for Aberforth and kissed her on the head before he headed out. Hermione had just enough time to clear the galleons, lease and empty tankards from the table before the door to the Hog's Head opened once again. She hoped it was her future supplier and groaned when a familiar voice greeted her.

"Granger?" Cormac McLaggen strolled right up to her table and tweaked one of her curls, smiling like a cat toying with its food. "Well this is a pleasant surprise. Tell me, are you the clever witch who bought out JP's old shop? I'd thought about it, you know, but business is going so well and I can't imagine lowering myself to shopkeeping."

"Hello, Cormac," Hermione said, barely keeping the regret out of her voice.

Closing her eyes as he finally released her curl and circled the table, she repeated a mantra over and over in her mind. _I need a supplier, I need a supplier._ When she opened her eyes it was to watch as he chugged down his butterbeer and ordered another. She could do this, she told herself firmly, the smile wavering on her face. She'd survived a terrible fake date with the man only three years ago, surely he couldn't be any worse now.

He winked at her and chugged his second butterbeer. _Oh Godric, don't let him be any worse_ , Hermione prayed.

* * *

 ** _I had to split this chapter up into two because it wound up being so long. I'm publishing this part early because I really love the next part and can hardly wait to get the final edits done so it can be published for you._**

 ** _Thank you all so much for reading and for all the reviews, favorites and follows you've given me. It's overwhelming, really. I hope you continue to enjoy this story._** ** _Blessings._**


	5. 5) February 19, 2000, Part 2

**.**

 **Chapter 5**

 **.**

 _ **February 19, 2000, Part 2**_

It was not a good evening at the Snape residence. Lucius had to go back to the manor early after Draco flooed, asking him to take Scorpius for the evening. Apparently the infant had a fever and Draco and Astoria had to attend a Ministry function. Severus hadn't thought anything of it until Sassa crawled over to him an hour later and vomited on his shoes. What followed was a rapid descent into madness as Calder puked in the corner of the store where Severus kept the play area, Sassa began wailing and Lucius floo called to let him know Scorpius had the Black Cat flu and it might be contagious.

Standing in a pile of sick with two crying toddlers clinging to his legs, Severus scowled at Lucius's face in the green flames. "You think?"

Unwilling to leave his sick children in such a state just so he could tromp about the countryside collecting ingredients, Severus scoured his cabinets for an anti-nausea potion to split between them. If he was lucky, he'd get them all settled and still have time to collect a little fluxweed. A handful of pepper-ups and a single, horribly old hangover drought were all he could find. Moreover, he was missing some of the ingredients to make the potion himself. He had been about to floo to St. Mungos when Lucius came through with a snot-nosed, vomit-covered six-month-old Scorpius and told him the hospital wasn't accepting any more patients.

"They didn't even have potions to give him," the blond wizard complained.

Severus held a hand under his nose, trying to prevent more of the smell of sick from assailing his senses as he took in the pitiful state of his family. There was only one thing for it.

"It's fine," he said. "Put Scorpius in Sassa's crib and try to clean up some of this mess. Open a window but cast some warming charms to keep the temperature. Try to keep Calder in the bathroom with washable toys. I'll take Sassa to JP's."

Lucius nodded, holding a dainty, embroidered kerchief to his own nose as the sounds of Calder vomiting in the bathroom echoed around the living area. "Hopefully the old man has some left. Mungos thinks it will be an epidemic!"

Feeling like he was forgetting something, Severus cast a cleaning spell on Sassa, summoned a knit blanket to wrap her in and set off down the stairs to the shop. As soon as he made it outside he realized what he'd forgotten. His coat. The winter wind whipping his hair about his face was bitter and his thin button-up did little to protect him from it. He buried Sassa deeper into the blanket before setting off across the snow-covered streets. Thank Merlin the potions shop wasn't too far away. If he'd known it was this cold out he may have left Lucius with all three kids and apparated over.

It was only as he rounded the corner and saw the freshly-painted closed sign hanging in the window of the potions shop that Severus remembered the crinkled coupon on the counter at home. JP had sold out and the damn shop was closed until Granger's re-opening next week. Biting back a curse, Severus debated apparating to Diagon Alley and taking his chances there. But if St Mungos was already out, he knew the shops would be too. He wasn't the only one capable of making his own anti-nausea potions, though his were undoubtedly the best. Sassa whimpered against his chest and he sighed. Nor was he the only parent who hated to see their kids sick. Giving it up for a bad night, Severus turned away from the potions shop and started back home, completely ignorant of the two people approaching him.

"As I refused the contra–Mister Snape?"

Looking up to see Granger walking toward him with a man who looked vaguely familiar, Snape's shoulders slumped in relief. "Miss Granger! Do you have any anti-nausea potions or powdered ginger root and spearmint?"

She blinked at him, her gaze wandering from his face to where Sassa was bundled up against his chest. One of her delicate eyebrows arched. Wondering if she'd demand an explanation before helping him, Severus curled his lip. He had no desire to go spilling his life secrets in the middle of the damn street. Granger was quick though; she took in the entire picture, her gaze raking from sickly toddler to messy shoes, and nodded.

"Of course," she said. Turning to her companion, she added, "Goodnight, McLaggen."

Ah, that was why the man looked so familiar. Another former student. Of course, Severus thought, he'd taught at Hogwarts for well over fifteen years. Half the wizards under forty were former students.

Severus didn't miss the flash of distrust on the man's face as he whispered, loud enough for all to hear, "You sure? I could go with you."

Granger huffed as he rolled his eyes. "I'll thank you to take your leave. I doubt Severus wants to waste time watching me hex you."

"Feisty. I love it." McLaggen snagged one of Granger's hands and planted a kiss on it. "I'll convince you to take the contract."

Severus stepped forward unconsciously. Though the words themselves were decent enough, he sensed a hum of threat beneath them. What on earth was Granger doing with this blaggard? Noticing Severus' motion, McLaggen smirked, dragged his lips across Hermione's hand a second time and disapparated with a wink. _Overconfident little twerp_ , Severus thought, _just like his father_.

Looking every bit as exasperated as Severus felt, Granger shook her head and headed towards her store. As he followed her, rubbing soothing circles on Sassa's back when she began crying again, Severus couldn't help but notice how Granger wiped the hand McLaggen kissed off on her jeans. He smirked. Clearly she found the pompous arse just as aggravating as he did. It hadn't escaped his notice that she'd dropped formalities with him, either. Probably just to throw McLaggen for a loop. Nice, though.

She held the door open for him and the blast of warmth from inside her shop immediately soothed him. The air had the pungent but familiar scent of hundreds of ingredients and potions mixed together. Severus inhaled deeply; he missed that smell. Hermione directed him to a pair of plush chairs in front of the fireplace.

"I've just got to find it," she said.

Relaxing where she left him, Sassa cradled to his chest, Severus looked around the shop as she strolled out of view to hunt for his potions.

It was the same as it had always been, rows upon rows of potions and ingredients everywhere you looked. But it was different, too. The shelving was new, painted bright white for the free-standing shelves while the built-ins remained their natural wood color, and Severus could tell she was reorganizing the stock to make the ingredients and potions stand out. Beetle eyes and black rhino tusk on the white shelves, while Unicorn hair and ashwinder egg popped out against the dark wood. The potions, however, seemed to be in the process of being alphabetized on the shelves closest to the entrance and there were a couple dozen boxes and half-unpacked crates scattered through the aisles. Overall, he thought, Granger was doing a nice job rennervating JP's old brand without completely changing it.

"What's she come down with?" Granger asked, jerking Severus away from his assessment of her shop.

"Mungos couldn't get them in but I suspect it's Black Cat Flu. It seems there's an outbreak."

Hermione appeared around a partially organized shelf, her hair battened down by an elastic that hadn't been there before. As she examined vial, she asked, "Is she feverish?"

Unwrapping the blankets enough for Sassa's curls to spring loose, Severus placed first the back of his hand and then his lips on her forehead to test her temp. He shook his head. "Not much but Scorpius was."

"Hmmm," she said, setting the potion aside and levitating a couple crates off a tall shelf. "This one won't do then. If it is Black Cat, you'll want something they can take for a few days until the symptoms wear off."

"Yes. Thank you."

"Do you babysit for the Malfoys often?" she asked as she dug through the first crate.

"Sometimes," he answered, trying not to look at the way her jeans stretched nicely across her rear as she bent over. It would have been easier if she wasn't in the aisle in front of him. Or if her arse wasn't so lovely.

"Oh," she said, pulling out what he instantly recognized as powdered ginger. "I guess I didn't know they had a daughter."

"They don't." Suddenly realizing her mistake–Sassa's hair was almost as light as Scorpius'–Severus chuckled. "Sassa is mine."

A vial slipped out of Hermione's fingers, smashing on the stone floor as she spun around to look at him. " _You_ have a daughter?"

His chuckles died and he arched an eyebrow at the witch. "Can't imagine anyone wanting to have children with _me_ , Hermione?"

"No. I, uh… You're attractive enough and quite brilliant. I was just surprised. She doesn't look to be more than sixteen months and the last time I saw you… Don't take this the wrong way, Severus, but you weren't looking healthy enough to be siring a child," she answered, blushing a pretty pink as she stared him down.

Not bothering to hide his surprise at her appraisal, he waited until she turned back to the crates to return her assessment. As she pulled ingredients out, she seemed to automatically sort them and he could see three piles forming. One for a fever-reducer, one for a pepper-up and one for what appeared to be an altered anti-nausea potion. He wondered if it was her own recipe or if she'd learned it from someone. Perhaps the crystallized ginger she'd selected instead of powdered improved taste or shelf-life? He'd have to try it sometime. On a shelf above her head she placed his powdered ginger and spearmint, her sweater riding up to reveal a smooth expanse of skin around her rather shapely hips. Attractive enough and quite brilliant, was that really what she thought of him? Severus hid a smile, figuring he could say the same about the witch in front of him and not be far off the mark.

"I adopted Sassa and her brother after the war," he explained, suddenly wanting her to know about his family.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at him, a smile playing around her lips. "But you only babysit Scorpius, right?"

He shrugged, moving Sassa to his right shoulder. "Lucius babysits him. I just happen to be there as he brings him to the store often."

"You own it together, then?"

"Technically, he's my employee." When Hermione shot a disbelieving look at him, Severus explained. "After Cissy died he needed something to do other than brood and drink firewhiskey. I may have inferred I was desperately in need of his accounting skills."

She laughed, a tinkling, lovely laugh that held no derision or taunt in it at all, and Severus thought she may actually understand. Like most Slytherin interactions, their deal had simultaneously gotten Lucius out of the house–thus soothing Severus and Draco's concerns about his mental state–and protected the man's pride. No one could be dull enough to think Severus actually needed the help, after all. It was basic maths not arithmancy.

When her laughter died off, Hermione resumed her questioning and sorting. "And once Scorpius was born it was perfectly fine for Mister Malfoy to bring him to the shop?"

"Why not?" Severus said, meeting her gaze as she tucked an unneeded bundle of bark back into the crate. "I already had the play area set up. He mostly watches the kids now, while I run the shop. And it gives Draco peace knowing Scorpius isn't with strangers."

"I admit I'm having a difficult time picturing Mister Malfoy as a doting grandfather. But I suppose things have changed a lot since the war."

"Yes," Severus agreed. Even Draco was shocked at how paternal Lucius had become. Though Severus knew his old friend was only trying to make up for how he'd failed his own son. Hindsight and all that.

Rising, Hermione disappeared around one of the shelves. The clinking sound of vials covered the silence as Severus tried to think of something else to say. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to continue their conversation, but he certainly wanted to. Instead of focusing on Hermione–how easy had it been to switch to a first name basis with her?–he busied himself with checking on Sassa. She felt warmer and her eyes were red-rimmed as she whimpered.

"Shhh, precious. We're going to get you some potions to make you feel better," he murmured, brushing her damp curls away from her forehead.

Hermione returned with a small box full of vials, adding the spearmint and ginger to it before moving to stand in front of him. Severus hardly noticed, too involved in the dance of soothing a sick child to feel her eyes on him.

"Fatherhood suits you."

"Hmmm," he agreed, making certain Sassa was asleep. "I didn't take to it easily but I like to think I'm better than the alternative."

"Which is?"

He looked up and was surprised to find Hermione so close, with a warm expression on her face as she watched him settling Sassa. The light from the fire behind him was reflected in her eyes and she looked softer than she ever had before. It occurred to him that they'd never had such a pleasant conversation before, not even at the store when they'd traded barbs without much sting.

Swallowing nervously, he changed the subject. "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing."

"Hermione," Severus snarled. "I don't need your charity."

She snorted at him. Barely managing to keep his eyebrows from climbing up his forehead, Severus glared at her. No one had dared to snort at him before. Rolling her eyes at his expression, Hermione stepped back, giving him room to stand.

"It's not charity," she stated with hand on her hip. "You _kindly_ told me the rumors about a flu outbreak that has St Mungos stretched to the limit and in exchange I gave you some potions. Considering how much money I'm going to make off my surprise, sneak-peak opening tomorrow morning, I think we're even."

Severus couldn't help it. He laughed. Tossing his head back and letting his entire body shake with humor, he let out all the tension that the evening had brought on. He didn't even care how insane he must look or that Sassa was fussing again. For all her compassion and Gryffindor qualities, Hermione Granger was a slimy snake of a business woman and he'd bet galleons to knuts it would make her a rich woman. It was refreshing to find she wasn't as one dimensional as he'd always thought.

"Don't stay up all night brewing," he said once he calmed down enough to follow Hermione to the door.

"Oh, I will," she said, a glint in her eye as she stared up at him. "It's a shame neither of us will be doing what we want to, though."

Sleeping for a week? Reading a new book? Kissing against the shelves? Severus could think of a thousand things he'd rather be doing than taking care of three sick children. An awful lot of them featured him and Hermione as a "we". Like conjuring a crib for Sassa and making love in front of the fire.

"What's that?" he asked, shaking his head and trying not to imagine the scene. How soft the rug was, how pliable Hermione would be, how sweet...

"Gathering fluxweed," Hermione said, pushing the box of vials into his empty hand.

Shocked, he stepped out the door to hide his expression and bid her a goodnight without even realizing he'd spoken. She waved him off and he snuggled Sassa closer before crunching through the snow. The short walk home felt like it lasted forever as Severus pondered Hermione's last words to him. _Gathering fluxweed..._

Did she know? Hermione had been the most brilliant student to ever enter his classroom. The witch was certainly capable of the magic that was behind whatever was happening at the gathering sites. And she'd apparently planned on going out before he'd interrupted her evening. Hadn't he told Lucius last month he intended on finding out who was behind the increased full moon harvests? He pushed through the front door of Tomes and Scrolls and wearily mounted the steps to his apartment. Perhaps he'd already found her.

As he tried to figure out the best way to confront Hermione about it, Severus walked into his apartment only to find Lucius on his hands and knees in the kitchen, puking into the trashcan as Calder sat crying in a pile of sick nearby.

"Salazar's beard! I thought I told you to keep him in the bathroom?"

* * *

 ** _Thank you for reading! I honestly overworked this chapter, trying to get it "just so" and finally realized that if I didn't publish it tonight I was going to work it into worse shape. Besides, I came home from vacation to half my tree on a neighbors roof, a broken cooler that's leaking in my attic and hundred degree heat. I figure posting this chapter will be the bright spot in my day._**

 ** _Blessings!_**


	6. 6) February 20, 2000

**.**

 **Chapter 6**

 **.**

 _ **February 20, 2000, Afternoon**_

Hermione surveyed her decimated shelves with a bone-weariness she hadn't felt since her time-turner days as the last customers let themselves out with her final bottles of anti-nausea potion. She hadn't slept a wink all night and, after the first quiet hour of her sneak-peak opening, hadn't gotten off her feet for even a second.

First came Hagrid with a request from Hogwarts. It seemed the new potions professor hadn't been able to keep up with the rigorous schedule of brewing the infirmary required and Madam Pomfrey was swamped with children succumbing to the flu. Hermione had happily given him a tenth of her stock and promised to send crates full of anti-nausea and fever-reducing potions in the morning. Then came the droves of Hogsmeade residents, drawn to the hastily charmed "Open Today" sign like moths to light. After that, utter chaos had descended on her shop as it seemed like every witch and wizard who hadn't the pleasure of catching the Black Cat Flu early enough to get into St Mungos decided to risk the winter weather and buy her out of potions and ingredients before the day was even half over. All the while, Hermione had handled the till, helped people navigate the changes she'd made to the store and dashed back and forth to her basement lab where she'd burned her hands trying to bottle potions quick enough to sell them.

Now, at half-past two, Hermione was bent over the counter, surrounded by bags of galleons and wondering just how she was going to fill the Hogwarts order by tomorrow with no sleep, a scoopful of black beetle eyes and a bottle of ground ashwinder egg left on her shelves. Two things were very evident to her. One, she needed to hire a shop assistant immediately. Even though she didn't expect her daily business to be as chaotic, she just didn't have it in her to handle even a quarter of this pace for more than a day or two. Second, she was going to have to go back on her promise to Cormac that she wouldn't hire him if he were the last potions supplier on earth. Hermione was certain they were facing a Black Cat Flu epidemic the likes of which hadn't been seen since the 1850s and she needed ingredients fast.

Dropping her head to the cool surface of her counter, Hermione sighed. She also needed to sleep. One or two hours and then she could hunt down Cormac, swallow her pride and beg him to let her sign him on as her supplier. No doubt he would extort the circumstances, gouging prices and demanding personal favors. Especially since she needed ingredients immediately, in large enough quantities to carry her through the next week of brewing _and_ boost her supply for the Grand Opening.

After that, well, then she could brew an invigoration potion to give her enough pep to last until tomorrow morning, at least, and get the potions for Hogwarts done as well as a couple cauldrons to donate to the Wizarding Orphanage and the Leaky. Old Tom ran a sort of underground free clinic in his back room for needy wizards and Hermione knew he'd appreciate the potions. The flu didn't discriminate between wizards who could afford healthcare and those who couldn't.

Groaning, Hermione was just trying to convince herself to lift her head and get to work–she'd nap later!–when the door chimed to announce a customer.

"Unless you want to make a love potion, we're closed," she said without lifting her head.

"Is that how you proposition all your friends or am I special?"

Jerking her head up immediately, Hermione smiled at the tall, handsome man standing in the aisle between her shelves. "Neville!"

She tried pushing herself upright to greet him but her legs trembled beneath her. Perhaps she was more worn out than she thought. Neville waved her off and snagged both the chairs from the seating area, hauling them over to her. Wincing when one of them banged against her shelves, Hermione shook her head at Neville's boyish grin.

"I may be clumsy but even I can't knock something off empty shelves," he said as he set one chair behind Hermione and tipped her into it.

"No," Hermione agreed, her body melting into the chair. "But you're so big and strong now you might've knocked over the entire shelf."

Neville chuckled. As he settled beside her, Hermione had a sudden flash of Severus kissing his daughter's forehead in the very same chair. Her stomach twisted at the sweet memory. For some reason it felt wrong to see Neville leaning back into the cushions instead of Severus.

"I see your sneak-peek opening has treated you well."

Hermione nodded, following Neville's gaze to the overfilled bags of galleons littering the area behind her counter. "I underestimated the desperation of parents with vomiting children. I even tried giving some of it away but half the people wouldn't even accept change."

"They're thankful for you. Not many people would risk their entire stock pre-opening to help out like this. Rumor has it Slug and Jiggers started doubling their prices a half ten yesterday. They still ran out of what was on the shelves by five."

"That's terrible."

"Mmmmm," Neville agreed.

As they settled into a comfortable silence, Hermione ran over her plan again. If she could stand by the time Neville left, she'd wait to take her nap until after she'd begged Cormac for help and brewed the potions for Hogwarts. Then she could get a couple hours sleep in the apartment upstairs and start in on several more batches to donate and sell. Tomorrow she'd keep the shop closed but perhaps she could accept owl orders until her grand opening… that would be nice. Hermione's head dropped onto the back of the chair. And she had to hire a shop assistant, she reminded herself as her eyes fluttered closed. It really was a comfortable chair. Maybe just a few minutes and then she'd get up.

Neville's voice penetrated her pre-sleep brain. "I hear you're in the market for a supplier."

"Hmmm," Hermione agreed, not bothering to open her eyes. "I'll find Cormac later."

"Actually." Neville's breath puffed against her cheek and Hermione turned her head, cracking her eyelids enough to see him leaning over in his chair, his face only inches from hers. His expression was more controlled than she ever recalled seeing it as he continued, "I was rather hoping you'd sign an exclusive agreement with me."

"Oh!"

Hermione's eyes popped wide as he pulled a handful of miniature crates out of his pocket. Winking at her, he levitated them across the room and removed the shrinking charm. She sat up when he dug in his robes and withdrew a roll of parchment.

"Just sign at the bottom and we can go over the special order you'll need for your opening," Neville said.

"I thought you ran a greenhouse?" Hermione asked, confused as she looked over the exclusive contract with Longbottom Incorporated and the accompanying invoice for the boxes sitting across the room. "Where on earth did you get boar spleens and dragon heartstrings?"

Neville shrugged. "Just call it a side hobby, Hermione. Now, are you going to sign or do you want me to send a patronus to Cormac and let him know you're all his?"

"Get me a quill."

* * *

 _ **February 20, 2000, Evening**_

Severus stood over the steaming cauldron of anti-nausea potion he was brewing on his stove top and sniffed appreciatively. "Smell that, Calder? That's gonna make you feel better as soon as it cools."

Calder, tucked against Severus' side with coltish limbs wrapped around his waist and neck like tentacles of the Devil's snare, leaned over the pot and mimicked Severus' sniff. He scowled in a perfect imitation of his father and wrinkled his much smaller, more button-shaped nose.

"Icky, dad."

"The boy's smart, Severus," Lucius intoned from the entrance to the kitchen. "Who ever thought to make an anti-nausea potion so impalatable?"

Chuckling, Severus turned the heat off as the potion turned the appropriate bright green color and muttered a slow-cooling charm over it. "It's not supposed to taste good. It's supposed to make you feel better."

"Spoilsport."

He turned around to see Lucius carrying Sassa and Scorpius to the kitchen table. Though his friend still looked a little green around the gills, Severus was pleased to see he'd managed a shower and had obviously transfigured the loaned flannel pajamas into something silk and silvery. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes at Lucius' vanity, Severus joined them at the table. The kids were quiet, still obviously under the weather, but he was relieved that no one had thrown up since their first round of potions the night before. It had taken him hours and dozens of scourgifies to get the smell of sick out of the air.

"Feeling better?" he asked, peeling Calder off his side and setting him into his chair.

Lucius shrugged. By the way his lips were pinched together, Severus guessed that he wasn't but didn't want to let on. He set about gathering two cups and two bottles of watered-down pumpkin juice–with a little more juice than usual–and measured out four doses of the newly-made potion. Hermione had given him just enough to last until this afternoon, considering they didn't know Lucius was ill, but he was pleased to see she'd included enough raw ingredients for him to brew his own for the usual three days it took for the Black Cat Flu to run its course. If they ran short, he was certain Lucius would forego the potions to make sure the kids got them. Or he could see Hermione again. He rather liked that idea.

Doling out the doses and pumpkin juice, Severus made sure Sassa & Calder swallowed every last drop of the potion before letting them gulp down their juice to wash it away. Lucius did the same with Scorpius before taking his own potion like a shot of whiskey.

"Great Merlin, Severus!" Lucius exclaimed, his lips twisting in disgust. "Your potion is fouler than JP's. What did you do, add bubotuber pus?"

"It's my usual potion," Severus snarled as he levitated bowls of soupy oatmeal and a baby bottle to the table. "I didn't get a chance to ask Hermione but I suspect she uses candied ginger to impro–"

"Hermione." Lucius choked on his pumpkin juice. "As in Hermione Granger?"

Severus scowled across the table at Lucius as he blew on a spoonful of oatmeal for Sassa. "Of course. How many Hermione's are you familiar with?"

"Clearly not as many as you," Lucius drawled, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Severus the way one might inspect an interesting object.

Unsettled by the suddenly Slytherin look that slipped onto Lucius' face, Severus preoccupied himself with feeding his daughter and making sure some of Calder's oatmeal actually made it to his stomach. After several long minutes, Lucius dropped his inquiring gaze and helped Scorp to his bottle. Breakfast continued quietly until Calder scraped the last of the oatmeal from his bowl and asked if he could play in his room.

"If you begin feeling unwell, you come get me," Severus said firmly.

Calder blinked his blue eyes up at him and nodded solemnly. "Yes, daddy."

Excusing his son, Severus made quick work of the dishes before he and Lucius took Sassa and Scorpius to the nursery. As they laid the two little ones out in the crib for a nap, Lucius nudged Severus.

"So Granger's the chit who bought out old JP?" he asked.

Severus nodded. "It was rather fortunate I bumped into her last night. She's closed the place down for renovations."

"And she just opened her shop up to you mid-evening out of the goodness of her heart?"

Severus pierced Lucius with a dark glare. "She's a Gryffindor for Cersei's sake, Luci. As soon as she saw Sassa she couldn't well turn me away."

"Hmmm. And when did she ask you to call her Hermione?"

"What are you driving at?" Severus snarled quietly so as not to wake the kids.

"Nothing," Lucius said as he retreated from the room. "Just... curious."

Pursing his lips, Severus turned back to the crib stroked a finger across Sassa's cheek, tugging one of her golden-blonde curls before leaning over and placing a kiss on both her and Scorpius' heads.

"Your Uncle Lucius is up to something," he murmured in Sassa's ear. "He never could leave well enough alone."

* * *

 _ **First off, I have to thank all you lovely reviewers who responded not only to the last chapter but wished me well after the disastrous end to my vacation. Y'all are so sweet! I assure you the tree has been brought down (sad, but necessary as the core was rotted) and I finally have A/C. Secondly, thank you for reading and your continued follows, favorites and reviews. I'm simply overwhelmed at the response to this fic.**_

 _ **And lastly, my apologies for taking so long to get this chapter to you. I have rewritten it at least two dozen times and it never really even close to right until this last version. It's kind of a turning point chapter but after this the plot should start clopping along pretty well. I appreciate your patience.**_

 _ **Blessings.**_


	7. 7) February 26, 2000, Part 1

**.**

 **Chapter 7**

 **.**

 _ **February 26, 2000, Part 1**_

"And see, here's the button that gives you access to the money in case you–"

"I know how to use a till, Granger."

Hermione snapped her mouth shut. Glancing up at her new employee, she met the amused but not entirely unoffended stare of Pansy Parkinson.

"Right," Hermione said. "Sorry."

One dark, perfectly manicured eyebrow arched and Pansy smirked at her. "Stop apologizing. You saw my resumé. Hell, you hired me without an interview. You know I'm capable. You just need to stop worrying and relax."

It was Hermione's turn to arch an eyebrow, though she imagined the effect was lost on Pansy-who-had-perfected-the-art-as-a-baby Parkinson. "You have met me, right?"

"Obviously." Smiling genuinely for the first time since Hermione had hired her–a whole two days ago–Pansy plunked herself down on a stool and checked her manicure. "And since you're not going to relax, go worry yourself into a tizzy somewhere else. I promise I know how to count back knuts and sickles and I even remember how to apply that ridiculous discount you offered to all the residents."

"Just on rare ingredients."

"I know!"

"Right," Hermione said, putting a hand in the air as if to stop herself from continued nagging. She really needed Pansy to help with the shop and knew, from years of the boys telling her, that she could be overbearing at times. It wouldn't do to have Pansy quit before they even opened. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Pansy chuckled but didn't comment, leaving Hermione to evacuate the domain behind the till. She leaned against the edge of a shelf, looking over the shop one last time before they opened. As she worried her bottom lip between her teeth, Hermione saw nothing else that needed her attention. The floors had been swept, the shelves straightened, the two chairs by the fireplace were prettied up with a couple floral throw pillows Pansy had thrust into Hermione's arms as soon as she arrived that morning. Later, Hermione had caught her new employee plumping and rearranging the pillows as though Hermione had somehow put them down wrong.

Tilting her head to the side, Hermione supposed the pillows _did_ look better now.

Hermione's gaze skated over the immaculate display of rare ingredients and to the single bookshelf that housed not only a selection of Hermione's personal collection, locked behind impenetrable glass at eye level, but also a couple dozen of the more common potions books to sell–ridiculously overpriced so only those too lazy to walk the two-hundred some odd metres to _Tomes & Scrolls_ would bother buying them. It was the only concession to her inner bookworm and she hoped Severus wouldn't be offended that she was selling books at all.

She smiled at that thought. A month ago she would have bet good money Severus would have minded. He probably would have ripped the display down and rebuked her for encroaching on his business before pocketing one of her rare books as retribution. Now, though. Hermione hummed. Well, now it seemed they had a kind of friendship between them. And perhaps Severus wouldn't blink an eye at her selling a couple potions books. He might even commend her for her business savvy.

At least, she thought–hoped–that might be his reaction. Hermione sucked her lip between her teeth again and worried it furiously. Really they'd only seen one another a handful of times. Just because they used first names… Maybe she'd turn the whole shelf into a display instead. She really didn't want to–

"Granger?"

"Hmmm?" Hermione shook her head and glanced back at Pansy who was staring over a copy of _Witch Weekly_. Only Pansy's gaze wasn't on her, it was on the door.

"What did you do to piss off McLaggen?" Pansy asked in a voice that was one-half sarcastic and one-half disinterested. Hermione thought it was her intrigued voice. "He's throwing paint at our shop."

"What?!" Hermione jerked away from the shelves, moving to the center of the room where she could see Cormac McLaggen standing in the road outside, his usually perfect hair hanging in limp curls about his face as he swung his wand arm in wide, angry arcs and cursed at the top of his lungs. As he threw his wand arm forward again, a bright orange flash of light streamed towards the window. Reflexively, Hermione ducked, but instead of penetrating the door like a curse, the orange light splattered against it. Hermione stood back up and watched the paint oozing down the window Pansy had cleaned only an hour ago. The clock above the door said they only had a half hour until their Grand Opening and Hermione instantly saw red.

"That little piss sta–"

Hermione didn't even finish her sentence. With a flick of her wrist, her wand was in her hand and she covered the distance to the door in less time than it took to stuff a piece of lettuce down a flobberworm's throat. As she reached for the handle, Pansy's voice drew her attention.

"If you kill him, I'll help you cut him up into potions ingredients," the former Slytherin singsonged.

The lower lid of her left eye twitched and Hermione made a face halfway between a grimace and a maniacal grin. "That's not a half bad idea," she growled, wrenching the door open and stepping onto her paint-splattered stoop.

The damage to the front of her shop was evident immediately. The perfect white blanket of snow that had carpeted the steepled roof of _J Pippins Potions_ and the streets in front of it was marred by a dozen different colors. Paint and melted snow dripped from the icicles above her, colors blurring and merging until the slush beneath her shop was the color of mud. Hermione looked up at the new sign she had painted and nearly cried when she saw a bright red splotch ruining it.

Hermione's damage assessment was interrupted when a paint spell, this one a brilliant blue, flew straight at her. She cast a quick shielding charm and Cormac's spell disintegrated right in front of her face. Rolling her neck and placing her feet shoulder-width apart, Hermione glared down at Cormac, fully prepared to do battle to protect her shop.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded, blocking another paint spell from hitting the oriel window.

"What am _I_ doing?!"

Cormac McLaggen dropped his wand arm and stalked toward the steps like a minotaur. His face was splotchy red and Hermione realized that for all the attention Cormac got for his good looks, he was really quite ugly when he was mad. Dropping one hand to her hip, Hermione blocked Cormac from joining her at the top of the narrow stoop. He stopped two steps below her, almost at eye-level, and poked a finger into her chest.

"You signed an exclusive contract with Longbottom."

Hermione gestured to the ruined facade of her store, dripping with every color of paint under the rainbow. "Do you throw a tantrum like this every time you lose a contract?"

He poked her chest again, leaving his finger pressed against her sternum like a tack holding paper to the wall. "An _exclusive_ contract, Granger!"

Hermione was unimpressed. "It's my prerogative to do business with whomever I choose."

"You wouldn't have given me exclusivity," Cormac countered. "You laughed when I suggested it."

Hermione sighed. That had been a little mean. Nonetheless…

"Neville's contract had better terms, Cormac. I made a business decision and, based on your behavior today, I don't see how I'm supposed to feel bad about that decision."

With a flick of Cormac's wand, the paint disappeared from her shop. Hermione pursed her lips. At least she wouldn't have to scramble to clean it up before their opening.

"Thank you," she said honestly.

Cormac smirked, ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. Hermione watched, shocked, as he transformed from ugly and angry as a minotaur to his usual Prince Charming self. A shiver of fear ran down her spine, though she couldn't imagine why. She knew how to handle _this_ Cormac.

"It was just a little paint. Now..." The finger on her chest became a hand and Cormac pushed Hermione back, joining her at the top of the stoop and towering over her. "Why don't we go inside and write Longbottom a nice letter explaining why you have to back out of the contract. Yeah?"

"No."

"Come on now, he's your friend. I'm sure the little loser won't mind cancelling the contract.. Just tell him you found a better deal."

"That's not the kind of business woman I am."

Anger flashed through Cormac's eyes even as he smiled beguilingly at her. "Oh, Hermione." He _tsk'_ d like a mother scolding a misbehaving child and the hand on her chest moved up to caress her neck. Hermione's stomach rolled. "Why do you have to be so difficult? Most women in your position would be happy to contract with me."

He was going to kiss her. Hermione came to that realization a second too late to stop him and her stomach rolled again. Ew. As he bent down and brushed his lips across hers, Hermione contemplated using the wand clutched in her hand for exactly three point two seconds. It was enough time for Cormac to attempt to stick his tongue between her lips. Enough time for Hermione to decide that a stinging hex wasn't going to teach him a lesson. Before he could taste anything more than lip gloss, Hermione buried her knee in his groin with every ounce of strength she had in her.

Considering she'd taken up running and some light weight lifting since the war, it was quite a bit of strength.

"Eee-ungh–" The sound that squeezed out of Cormac was high-pitched groan and Hermione pushed him off her.

"Y-you," Cormac inhaled air like a fish and glared at Hermione. "What did you do that for?"

Scrubbing the back of her hand across her lips, Hermione tamed her expression into one of stern indifference and ignored the "what ifs" flying around her brain. Instead, she focused on the indignation boiling inside her. Why she kneed him should have been obvious. The fact that he didn't know meant he was either playing stupid or was truly ignorant. Her mum always said ignorance was dangerous.

"It's time for you to go," she said as firmly as possible.

"We aren't done here," Cormac argued. "You need to see–"

"No. I don't need to see anything except you walking away from me for good. If you don't leave, I will call aurors in."

"You bitch!" Cormac snarled, raising his hand as if to strike Hermione.

She had a moment to anticipate what it would feel like to be backhanded–the sharp sting of flesh on flesh, the sheer force that would snap her head to the side, the fall off the stoop as she lost her balance... There was a flash of fear. Then a flash of anger. But before either of them could move, Cormac was yanked off the stoop by the back of his jacket.

"Get the hell away from her, McLaggen."

A very angry Severus Snape towered over McLaggen, his broad-shouldered body strategically placed between the red-faced idiot and herself. Hermione collapsed against the door of her potions shop, overwhelmed with relief. Severus had always had impeccable timing.

* * *

 _ **Thank you for reading! And thank you to all of you lovely people out there following, favoriting and reviewing this story. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**_

 _ **Blessings.**_


	8. 8) February 26, 2000, Part 2

**.**

 **Chapter 8**

 **.**

 _ **February 26, 2000, Part 2**_

It was the day of the Grand Opening and Severus set out for the potions shop early, hoping to snag some high quality ingredients from Hermione before the crowds arrived to decimate her stock. His excitement over the shopping trip was due, in part, to the thrill he'd gotten from brewing the anti-nausea and fever-reducing potions earlier that week. He couldn't wait to get his feet wet with a few more potions, even if they were simple enough he could brew them in his sleep. Mostly Severus just wanted to repay Hermione's kindness. She had, after all, given him galleons worth of potions and ingredients for free. And, even if she had made a fortune off his tip about the flu–and Severus had heard enough talk around town to know she did–it was truly _he_ who owed _her_ for getting his family back on their feet so quickly.

He was almost to the corner when his son's excited yelling forced him to stop and turn around. "Daddy! Wait!"

"Calder?" He arched an eyebrow as his four-year-old ran across the snow-covered streets in his puffy, blue coat. A toothy grin was the only part of him visible between his knit hat and zipped-up jacket. "I thought I told you to stay home with Uncle Luci."

"Yes," Calder agreed, colliding with Severus' legs and almost toppling them both over into the snow. "But Unca Luci says you forgotted the 'oupon."

"Coupon. Kuh–coupon," Severus corrected automatically, even as he accepted the balled up green paper from his son. The paper he had purposely left at home. "Thank you."

Calder grinned, mission accomplished, and tucked his hand into his father's much larger one. "What are we buying at the 'pothecary?"

Chuckling at his child's gall–the boy was as Slytherin as they came, wriggling his way into the trip–Severus buried the coupon into his trouser pocket and let Calder all but drag him down the street towards the apothecary. "I need ingredients for a few potions. Burn cream, pepper up, headache relief..."

"Couldn't you jus' buy the potions?" Calder asked.

"Well, yes," Severus conceded. "But then I wouldn't get the fun of creating them myself."

"Oh."

And it would be fun. Severus could almost smell the cauldrons simmering. Could almost see the iridescent steam rising from their depths and hear the gurgling of a thick, boiling mix. The Dark Arts were an obsession in his youth but nothing, not even that, had ever compared to his steadfast love of potions. Knowing that if you followed every step meticulously, you could turn a pile of raw ingredients into something that could save or take a life… it had always enthralled him. And he'd missed it.

At least now he'd have plenty of reasons to take it up again. With the children getting older and Lucius constantly at the store, Severus figured he'd have more time to brew a small kit of first aid potions again. And clearly he'd need it, if the rapid spread of flu through his and the Malfoy households was any indication. Hadn't Poppy always told him children were walking petri dishes? Now he willingly housed and fed two, often three, of those petri dishes.

"Dad."

Besides, he thought, in keeping his cabinets stocked he'd be able to support Hermione through the first trying months of running her own shop. Which had everything to do with the fact that he knew how hard taking over an existing store could be, no matter how business-savvy one was. It was endlessly tiring trying to deal with old expectations while pouring a bit of yourself into the business. Severus nodded to himself. That was it exactly.

"Dad!"

His desire to help her out certainly had nothing to do with the way Hermione's eyes had lit up when she'd first dropped the coupon off or with the peek of skin he'd seen when she bent over to rummage through a box of ingredients. And it definitely had nothing to do with the mischief in her eyes when she'd teased him about missing the full moon gathering.

"DAD!"

Severus found himself yanked out of his reverie and his forward movement impeded by the sudden dead weight on his arm. Looking back at his son, who had stopped like an anchor in the middle of the street and was flushed red, Severus frowned.

"What, Calder?"

"That man is trying to hurt a lady!" Calder said, his free hand pointing to the stoop of J Pippins Potions.

Turning to look in the direction his son was pointing, Severus inhaled so sharply his nostrils went flat. Eyes dilating, he dropped his son's hand and took a step away, unaware of how dangerous his voice was when he all but growled, "Stay, Calder," before eating up the distance between himself and J Pippins Potions with long strides.

Severus Snape knew rage. He'd destroyed his potions lab hundreds of times over the years in a fit of temper, often setting it to rights only to rip it apart by hand all over again. He had felt the tightening of the proverbial collar around his neck by not one but two different masters and knew the seething heat of silent, insubordinate rampage. He had worshipped at the altar of bubbling hatred that clawed its way up from a person's gut only to explode from their lips in the most unforgivable of curses. But he had never– _never_ –felt anything like this before.

As soon as he realized what Calder was pointing to, Severus saw red. Ice prickled his veins, froze his body and stopped his heart, and was quickly eaten up by a fiendfyre of anger so intense it caused what he was almost certain was a spontaneous apparation. One minute he was still twenty yards away, racing towards the man pinning Hermione to her door, the next he was at the bottom of the steps, yanking him off the stoop so forcefully his jacket nearly tore.

"Get the hell away from her, McLaggen," he said in a voice low and calm enough to belie the heat itching to explode from him at any moment.

Squaring his shoulders, Severus planted himself fimly between the man and Hermione. His peripheral sight blurred with tunnel vision, his wand hand twitched like an addict and his body was as coiled and tense as a snake's while it stared down its next meal.

For his part, McLaggen looked as though he contemplated retaliating for an entire half-minute. But then the fire went out of his eyes and he lowered his head the way he used to when Severus ripped into his potions work. Hatred and insolence burned on his face, but without enough daring to do anything. Nonetheless, Severus kept his wand hand at the ready, in case today was the day the boy dug out his Gryffindor courage and did something stupid.

Well, stupider than he'd already done.

He didn't. Scowling at the woman behind Severus, McLaggen shoved his wand into a hip holster and said, "This isn't over, Granger," before apparating away.

"The hell it isn't," Severus growled, turning and stalking up the steps to snag Hermione's chin in his hand. He tilted her face back and forth, intently looking for marks. "Did he touch you?"

Hermione pushed his hand away. "I'm fine."

Severus ground his teeth. "He did, damnit. Did he hurt you?"

Big, dark, whiskey-colored eyes squinted up at him and Hermione smiled wryly. "No. You showed up before he could do any real damage. Thank you."

Severus nodded, not quite convinced that idiot didn't do something. But Hermione's tone had an edge of finality to it and he wasn't ready to challenge that before his second cup of tea. "That's… well, that's good then."

"Mmmm," she agreed. "What are you doing here, though? Not that I'm complaining."

"We were coming over for your Grand Opening."

"We?" Hermione asked, peeking over his shoulder.

"Shit," Severus smacked his forehead and leaped off the stoop. "I'll be right back," he called behind him as he dashed back to the corner where his son was waiting for him. Severus had the distinct impression Calder hadn't moved an inch during the entire confrontation, he was that still.

"I'm sorry, Cal," he said, sweeping his son into his arms. "I didn't mean to forget about you. You did such a good job waiting, though. Just like I told you."

Calder was grinning though, his blue eyes sparkling as he spoke rapid-fire. "Amazing, Da! The bad man raised his hand and poof! You popped out of nowhere an' saved the lady. All by yourself, dad, like Batman."

From anyone else, Severus would sneer at the reverent, hero-worship Calder was spouting. He hated it. But from his son it was like water to a man dying of thirst and he soaked up the praise, planting a kiss on Calder's head and snuggling him close as he trudged back to the Potions shop. Hermione was waiting for them, her gaze gentling just like the last time she saw him with one of his children. Severus found he rather liked when she looked at him like that.

"Calder," he said when they were close enough for introductions. "This is my friend, Miss Hermione."

Hermione met them halfway down the steps, smiling at him, his son–them. Her cheeks were pink.

"Hello, Calder," she said, offering him a hand to shake. "You can call me Mione if it's easier."

Calder blinked owlishly up at her, deciding that today he was afraid of strangers, and snuggled his face into Severus' neck.

"Sorry," Severus said.

"Don't be." And Severus thought she really meant it as she jerked her head toward the door. "It's been a trying morning all around. Come inside for a cuppa? I can't sell you anything until nine but you're welcome to haunt the aisles if you'd like."

"Sounds perfect."

Severus followed her up the steps and reached over her head to hold the door open for them. As soon as they stepped inside the shop, a woman who looked more than vaguely familiar turned the page of her magazine as noisily as possible and said, "Did you let him off with a warning or do I need to sharpen the knives?"

"Pans–"

Severus interrupted Hermione, "If you didn't have your nose buried in a silly rag, Miss Parkinson, perhaps you would have realized you had customers."

"P-professor Snape?" Parkinson gaped at him, her magazine fluttering forgotten to the countertop. Severus smirked; she looked exactly as horrified as she had when he found her trying to slip amortentia in Draco's punch. Six years ago, was it? "What are you doing here?"

"Good morning to you, too," he drawled, making his way to the seating area where he settled into a chair with Calder still wrapped around him. Apparently around two strangers, his son turned into a mute, timid being that burrowed in his scarf.

"I invited him, Pansy," Hermione said, ducking behind a shelf and rifling some vials around. "For our opening. As for Cormac, he went a little crazy because we've signed with Longbottom."

"What did he do?" Parkinson demanded. "If that little twerp so much as–"

Arching an eyebrow, Severus wondered if Parkinson realized how much emotion she had just demonstrated. It was very un-Slytherin of her. He supposed Hermione had a way of making people like her, though. Certainly, he liked her. And she'd only been back in his life for a couple weeks.

"Nothing," Hermione said, her voice echoing around the shop as she moved between shelves. "Well, nothing much. He didn't much appreciate me introducing my knee to his groin but fortunately Severus stepped in before things could get too ugly."

"What do you mean, 'too ugly'?" Severus demanded. He knew there was something more. "What happened before I arrived?"

"Ah-ha!"

Hermione emerged from behind a shelf six feet to his left and held up a shiny, cellophane-wrapped box that looked out of place in the potions shop with its bright colors and muggle-like presentation. As she walked towards them, her gaze softened again and she sat down in the remaining chair, drumming the fingers of one hand on the box. It didn't escape Severus' notice that Hermione ignored his question.

"Hmmmm," Hermione said in a tone that brokered interest. "I wonder if there's anyone here who would like this toy potions kit. I don't have any kids of my own so I don't have any use for it."

"Granger," Parkinson said sternly. Severus thought she might be just as impatient as he was to hear what happened.

But as Calder peeked over Severus' shoulder to look at what toy had been brought out, Hermione waved her hand in the air as if dismissing their concerns. She teased the corner of the cellophane open and gasped. Loudly.

"It says right here," she emphasized her point by tapping the box. "That this potions kit is meant for kids four and up! Pansy, do you know of any kids who are old enough to give this to?"

Parkinson tossed her hands in the air and deadpanned, "No, Granger."

"Oh," Hermione said sadly. Turning to face Severus, she tapped a finger to her bottom lip and nearly pouted. "That's too bad. Severus?"

Rolling his eyes–it was blatantly obvious what she was doing–Severus mimicked Parkinson's tone. "Yes, Hermione?"

She smiled. "Do you know of any children who would be old enough for this potions set?"

For his part, Calder had started wiggling in Severus' arms and craning his neck to look at the colorful box. Severus shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not sure."

"Dad." The word was a mere whisper but in the quiet of the store it carried.

"Just a moment, Calder," Severus said. "I'm trying to help Miss Hermione with something."

Calder squirmed harder and Severus purposefully tightened his hold, winking at Hermione as he pretended to contemplate her problem. "Would you say the child you're looking for would need prior potions experience?"

"It's not necessary, but it would help," Hermione flipped the box over to reveal an enticing diagram showing children gathered around a steaming plastic cauldron. "Ooh. One of these potions is a chocolate cordial."

"Dad!" Calder planted both hands on Severus' chest, leveraging himself away. "I'm four years old."

"Really?" Hermione asked, leaning forward. "I didn't know that, Calder. Do you think you would be interested in this potions kit?"

His son glanced at him, waiting for approval, and Severus inclined his chin ever so slightly. Grinning like a child in a candy store–which, Severus supposed, was probably what he felt like–Calder nodded and wiggled off his lap.

"Yes, please," he said.

"Oh, thank you, Calder!" Hermione said, slipping off the chair and joining his son on the ground. When she held her arms open and let Calder climb into her lap so they could open the toy together, Severus felt his heart constrict. "I was really worried there would be no one to play with this."

Once the kit was open, Hermione showed Calder the pictures that demonstrated how to make each potion and helped him figure out which of the ingredients matched the recipe for the chocolate cordial. All the while she let him wield the stirring stick like a sword and tell her all about how his dad saved her from a "bad man". As if she hadn't been there herself. She gasped and oohed and aahed in all the right places, tickling Calder when he fibbed and said he helped his dad "a'prate" to her. Severus swallowed hard. It was lovely. _She_ was lovely.

Eventually their play time was interrupted by Parkinson barking over her trashy magazine, "Granger, it's five til nine."

"Sh–tar grass salve!" Hermione cursed. "Mr. Pippins was going to floo through ten minutes ago."

Placing Calder onto the ground by himself, she used the empty chair to pull herself up and hurried past Severus toward the floo. With hurried, erratic wand movements, Hermione peeled back her wards. Immediately green flames burst into the grate.

Severus stood as the stooped former proprietor stepped out of the flames silently. JP's gaze slid right past Hermione, who was summoning a tea service from Merlin only knew where, and across the store, pausing momentarily on the new shelves and again on Calder and his steaming play cauldron where a pile of chocolate chips were melting into goo.

"What have you done to my shop?" JP demanded harshly.

Unbothered to even turn around at that comment, Hermione tapped the kettle so steam came out and chose what looked like a homemade blend to steep in it. Only once she was done did she reply to the former shopkeep.

"I bought new shelves and rearranged. Our only agreement was that your name stay on the sign and if you bothered to glance out the window you would see that I held up my end of the bargain. Sugar?"

"No, and no cream either," JP said, scowling as he stalked around the chairs and stared down at Calder. "You didn't tell me you had a child. How can you expect to run a shop efficiently with a child underfoot?"

Severus cleared his throat and waited until JP noticed him standing there. "This is my son."

The man sniffed dismissively as though he either didn't recognize him–impossible, Severus' nose was a beacon of individuality no matter what other changes he made in personal style–or didn't feel the need to respect him now he wasn't being paid to. Mostly Severus figured JP was trying to see if he could ruffle Hermione's feathers. He fought back a grin–unlikely.

"A liability, then," JP said after a minute. "You should know better, Miss Granger, than to let your patrons' children run amok."

Shoving a steaming mug of black tea into JP's hands, Hermione smiled a tight-lipped smile at the former proprietor. "Calder isn't running amok and there is no liability. If you'll notice, I put only unreactive, inexpensive ingredients on the lower shelves. And everything potentially harmful is under wards or locks. Now, are you going to complain all day or are you going to sit down and tell me how your vacation to Greece was?"

That a girl, Severus thought. As Hermione helped JP get settled, he bent down and asked Calder to start picking up his potions set, please, before slipping away to the till where Parkinson was still buried in her magazine. He doubted she was reading it at all, simply using it to hide her interest in what had been going on. He'd always taught his Slytherins that paying attention to everything without seeming to would always give a person the upper hand. It was good to know Miss Parkinson had learned at least that much from him.

"I need parchment," he said.

Parkinson barely glanced at him as she slid a muggle pad and pen across the countertop. "So what really happened with McLaggen?" she murmured.

Glancing over his shoulder to see Hermione had abandoned JP and was flitting between the shelves, making sure everything was just-so before they opened, Severus shook his head. "I'm going to find out."

Parkinson smirked. "Good for you, sir."

Silence descended over them, interrupted only by the scratching of pen on paper, the quiet turning of a page and Calder's occasional giggles. Severus had to pause in his list a few times to track Hermione's progress through the shelves. And to make sure she had the ingredients he was requesting. In addition to his household potions, he figured it wouldn't hurt to make a little something special for McLaggen. Just to make sure that boy didn't follow up on his threat to continue hounding Hermione.

When he was done, he pushed the list across the counter and dropped the pen in the cat-shaped mug that held a dozen other writing implements and, oddly, a tube of toothpaste. "When do you close?"

"Six."

He nodded. "Have my order ready by then. I'll pick it up when the last customer leaves."

"Of course." Parkinson winked at him. "It was good to see you, sir."

"You too, Miss Parkinson. Behave yourself."

As he stepped away from the counter, she responded. "Unlikely."

He chuckled and walked silently over to where Hermione stood by the door. She was wearing a pair of muggle jeans again and he wondered if they purposefully designed the pockets to draw attention to women's arses. His gaze lingered only momentarily on her assets before Severus slipped behind Hermione and bent close to her ear.

"We're going to head out," he murmured, his lips brushing her curls.

She squeaked and placed a hand to her heart. "Jesus, Severus. Could you be any sneakier?"

"You haven't even scratched the surface of my sneakiness, witch."

"Right. I forgot you were a master spy," she said, her tone light.

He scoffed. "Please. Tiptoeing around a dark lord and confiscating Potter's invisibility cloak were childs play. The real skills were learned in utter darkness, escaping Sassa's crib and navigating across a toy-strewn floor on minimal sleep."

She chuckled. "Thank you for coming. I'm sorry you weren't able to pick anything up."

"Parkinson's preparing my order. I'll be back when you close. Don't think I've forgotten about what happened outside, Hermione. You may have distracted Calder, but I'm no child." He paused to let his words sink in, continuing only after she inhaled sharply. "I want answers."

Hermione's lip quivered for a moment but she squared her shoulders and nodded. "Of course. I'll expect you at six, then."

On his way to the floo, Severus waved his wand at Calder's potions set, packing it all back into the nice little box it came in. He scooped it and his son up before heading to the floo.

"Tell Miss Hermione goodbye, Cal," he said.

"Goodbye Miss Her-mine-y," Calder recited obediently. He waved at her over Severus' shoulder. "And' thanks for my toy."

"Goodbye Calder. Severus."

As he tossed the floo powder into the grate and stepped into the green flames, Severus heard Hermione open the door and invite what sounded like a herd of hippogriffs inside.

"Tomes & Scrolls," he said clearly. The last thing he saw before spinning away was a horde of people pressing into the shop, clutching little green coupons like golden tickets.

* * *

 _ **Thank you for reading. I am so appreciative of all you lovely folks who are favoriting, following and reviewing this story. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**_

 _ **Blessings.**_


	9. 9) February 26, 2000, Part 3

**.**

 **Chapter 9**

 **.**

 _ **February 26, 2000, Part 3**_

"Goodbye, Mrs. Corksley. Thank you for coming," Hermione said automatically as the door shut behind a woman with too-wide hips and a purse the size of Wales. A quick scourgify and a deodorizing spell cleaned up the mess she left in her wake.

"And that's why you place extension charms on the aisles," JP–he'd told her to stop calling him Mr. Pippins–sniped from his chair by the fire. "So you don't have to clean up spilled armadillo bile after some mooncalf of a customer bumps the whole lot off the shelf."

Hermione inhaled slowly, counting to ten and trying to remember why she had invited the old bastard to the opening in the first place. Right, because it was the respectful thing to do. When she released the breath just as slowly, she reminded herself that it was not, therefore, respectful to hex his bollocks off and ban him from the shop.

"I'll add that to my to-do list," she said once her temper was back under control. Her imaginary to-do list. She'd made it up after the fiftieth time he'd "suggested" some improvement or another. No matter that she already had extension charms on the aisle–Mrs. Corksley was as notoriously clumsy as Neville–or that her white-washed shelves _did_ make the ingredients pop out more. Nothing she had changed (and many things she hadn't) seemed to be good enough for JP.

Looking up from his perusal of her books–which he'd been going over since that morning in spite of the fact there were only three pages worth of transactions–JP sneered at her. Hermione pretended it was a look of endearment or respect. It didn't work and her wand hand twitched.

"No need," he said, gesturing to a roll of parchment beside him. It was filled with his scribbles and was long enough to roll off the small side table he'd transfigured and onto the floor. "I took the liberty of making notes for you."

Was her eye twitching? Hermione placed a finger on her lower lid and felt it jump. Yes, yes it was. She took another calming breath that did nothing to calm her and forced a smile. It came out as a grimace.

"Thank you, JP," she bit out. "That will be helpful."

Helpful fire-starter.

"I'm rather famished," he said, changing the subject.

A plate of half-eaten cookies and untouched sandwiches sat on the second chair, ensuring no one could join him in the area by the fire. Between fetching things for JP, keeping her brewing on schedule and helping Pansy at the till when they got a little too busy, Hermione was at the end of the rope called patience. And that was completely ignoring the trying morning she'd had _and_ Severus' promise to return and make her tell all. When JP's beady eyes scanned the shelves and he scribbled something else on the list that looked suspiciously like " _turn rhino horns so points face out_ ", she snapped. Enough was enough!

"Why don't you jus–" Hermione started angrily.

"I'm going to get a bite at the Three Broomsticks," Pansy interjected, materializing next to Hermione and placing a hand on her arm. "We're having a bit of a lull right now. Would you care to join me, JP?"

The smirk and accompanying glare JP sent Hermione had her biting her tongue as he all but gushed back at Pansy, "What a considerate offer, Miss Parkinson. Thank you."

Gesturing to the floo, Pansy smiled back much too sweetly. "Why don't you head on over and tell Rosmerta to get us a table by the fire. I'll be right behind you."

The giant pain in Hermione's arse disappeared in a whirl of green flames and Pansy's smile slipped off her face. As she looked down her nose at her, Hermione got the distinct impression Pansy was trying to mimic a certain former potion professor's glare. It didn't work. Pansy's nose was too short and she was only a few inches taller than Hermione. Certainly not the right ingredients for Severus' trademark glare, though Pansy's was intimidating in its own way.

"Go ahead," Hermione said, collapsing into the newly vacated chair. "Tell me I need to have more patience with him. That I'm letting him get under my skin. That I'll never learn how to handle you Slytherins properly."

Pansy arched an eyebrow. "I was going to tell you to stop letting that man walk all over you and give him some boundaries. JP is a lonely old codger who will never leave this shop unless you make him. But don't bite his head off just because you didn't call him on his shite the first time he acted like he still owns this place."

"Hmmm," Hermione sighed, glancing about the room to make sure there weren't any lingering customers before she leaned her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes. "I'll remember that. Why don't you take the rest of the day off? As thanks for getting him out of here."

Pansy snorted. "Please, I'm starving. And that man has got too much good breeding in him to let me pay."

"Clever," Hermione said, not even caring to lift her head. She was exhausted. The Grand Opening had been a bigger hit than her sneak-peek opening. Of course, Neville had provided enough stock for her to keep her going for a couple weeks, and she'd adapted some clever charms to make most of the shelves automatically restock from her supply downstairs, so she didn't run out of anything like last time. Having more to sell meant more business. She figured in another few weeks or months or years she may actually get the hang of it all, too.

"See you tomorrow," Pansy said, moving away. "Don't fall asleep in that chair."

Reluctantly Hermione opened her eyes and rolled her neck. Pansy was right, she couldn't very well fall asleep while the shop was still open. Standing, she was halfway to the till before she realized Pansy had called her name.

"Yes?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

Pansy smirked, tossing her long, dark hair over her shoulder as she said, "You handle Slytherins pretty well for a sappy Gryffindor, Granger. Especially Snape." In a flash she was through the floo, leaving Hermione alone with her words.

"Cersei's tits," Hermione muttered, crumbling onto one of the stools behind the till. Of course Pansy would bring that– _him_ –up. And right after Hermione had finally managed to get him off her mind.

What was it, she wondered, that made Severus Snape so intriguing? She'd known the man almost half her life–well, more than half her life if she counted her time-turner years. Which the wizarding world didn't because they only counted celebrated birthdays not actual years lived and she'd never actually turned on her birthday–Dumbledore asked her not to. She had a sneaking suspicion the former headmaster hadn't actually gotten ministry permission for her to use the device and it had only been one more of his many machinations to ensure they won the war. He'd used her the same way he'd used Severus.

Severus. Hermione shook her head at herself. The man was an enigma. No matter how old she really was, in all that time Hermione had never thought about him as much as she did now–Severus was always Harry's preoccupation. And certainly she hadn't thought of him in the way she did now.

Sure, part of it could be contributed to the button-up shirts that were almost as formal but not quite as stiff as his frock coat and robes. And seeing him with his children did make her feel… well, she wasn't sure what it made her feel but it did something to her insides that made her go soft and warm and interested. And absolutely, when he was close to her his scent–soap with an undercurrent of books and mint and something decidedly masculine–invaded her senses and made her want to do silly things like bury her face in his chest and never leave. But surely these weren't things that would make her obsess over him like some infatuated…

"Oh!"

Hermione clasped a hand over her mouth, surprised at the sound that escaped into the silence of her shop. The few times she'd been around Severus had made her feel things but she hadn't paid enough attention to realize those things had been, well, _feelings_. Surely not, she thought, they'd only seen one another a handful of times since she'd come back to Hogsmeade. One couldn't develop feelings after so little time. Could they?

Placing two fingers on the pulse point at her throat, Hermione watched the second hand on the clock and counted the beats. Then she repeated the exercise and imagined Severus comforting Sassa on the chair by the fire. Or Severus running back to his son and scooping the smiling child up in his arms. Or Severus grabbing her chin between his long, beautiful fingers, concern in his eyes as he loomed close enough to kiss. If she'd just tilted her head a little bit or he'd only leaned in just so. Or Severus pressing against her back, his arms winding around her waist as he nuzzled her hair out of the way as his lips stroked and kissed and nibb...

"Mione!"

"Jesus Christ, Ronald!" Hermione nearly toppled off the stool, flailing her arms to regain her balance before glaring at the redhead standing in front of her counter–when had he gotten here? If her heart rate hadn't already increased with her thoughts of Severus, it surely would have now, she thought wryly. "What are you doing here?" she asked more harshly than she meant to.

Ron scuffed his toe on her floor, looking everywhere but in her eyes as he mumbled, "Ineeyohep."

"Enunciate," Hermione said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"I need your help," Ron said. He paused a moment, possibly noticing her stress, and added more gently, "Please?"

Hermione nodded. She couldn't very well say no to him when he sounded like a wounded puppy dog, could she? Patting the spare stool, she summoned her tea service and set about making a fresh pot of strong, black tea.

"What did you do this time?"

"How d'ya know it's something I did?"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione spooned exactly three and a half spoonfuls of sugar into one of the cups as she waited for the tea to steep. "Because you only come to me when you've done something. If it was someone else you'd go to Harry or George or, more likely, drag Harry here to discuss it."

Ron smiled–only half his mouth dedicated to the action–and shrugged. "Guess you really know me, huh?"

Frowning at the mild response, Hermione finished pouring their tea, handed the heavily-sweetened cup to Ron and placed a comforting hand on his arm. "Hey, whatever it is, we'll work through it, yeah?"

"What if it's the stupidest thing I've ever done?" Ron asked.

"I doubt that. You haven't called me a traitor for dancing with another boy, have you?

Her attempts at levity fell flat on the floor and Ron's face crumpled. He bit his fist, a wretched sound escaping from his throat as he looked everywhere but at Hermione. When she finally caught his gaze, she was shocked to see his blue eyes red-rimmed and swimming in unshed tears. Instantly, she drew him into a hug.

"Oh, Ron," she cooed. "What happened?"

"I… Merlin, Mione, I got a-a-a…"

Ron pulled his fist away from his mouth and leaned into her hug, burying his face in her neck as his arms–still gangly despite the bulk he'd put on playing professional sports–encircled her waist. Hermione rocked gently and painted a soothing pattern up and down his back with her hands.

"Hmmmm?" she encouraged.

He sniffed a few times before pulling away. Wiping a hand across his face, he shook his head, squared his shoulders and looked Hermione dead in the eye. She smiled. This was the Ron she knew and loved.

"I got Alicia Johnson pregnant."

"Oh," Hermione gaped at him, her mouth opening and closing as she fought to find the appropriate words. There were none. "Oh!" She reiterated.

He sniffed again and sipped his tea. "Yeah, that's what I said."

"Well, when did you find out?" And once she found that first question, Hermione realized she had a lot of them. "And what are you going to do about it? Did this happen at my flat. Oh my mercy, it did, didn't it? Wait, Alicia Johnson? Isn't that Angelina's little sist–oh, my! What does she think about it? Is she going to keep it? When did she tell you? Wait, why are you _here_? Tell me you didn't leave her alone; so help, me, Ronald, if you–"

Ron pressed her teacup against her lips, forcing her to take a giant drink of the liquid. As Hermione swallowed, she was glad he'd remembered to put a cooling charm on it so it didn't burn her. Following the gulp of tea with another, smaller sip, Hermione nodded.

"You're right. I'm sorry. You speak, I'll listen," she said.

Ron licked his lips, looking positively green, and picked at a spot on the counter. Hermione surreptitiously locked the front door and warded the floo, hoping no one came calling while he unloaded on her.

"Right, well. You were there, sorta," Ron started. "Member the night you–er, I borrowed your flat? Last month? Course you do. Well, that was Alicia. We'd been sorta seeing one another when I was between games. Not steady, you know how I don't do steady, but she was fun and I'd take her out now and again."

"Mmhmm," Hermione encouraged, keeping her teacup to her lips so she didn't jump in.

"Well Alicia, she'd been working hard and we took advantage of her day off to celebrate, er, more than usual. You know?"

Hermione flushed. She had an idea of what he meant.

"Right. Well, they've been so busy since–there's some kinda change going on in the company I think–an' I hadn't seen Alicia since. Then all of a sudden she was there at my game yesterday and she says we need to talk. Well, course, I think she's found a good bloke and is gonna give settling down a go. Came to tell me she couldn't see me anymore. But..."

His voice escaped him, his adam's apple bobbing rapidly as he tried to get the words to come out. After several minutes, Hermione patted his arm and finished for him. "But instead she told you she's pregnant. She wants to keep it."

It wasn't a question, but Ron nodded. "Yeah. She said… she said she doesn't expect anything from me. But how can I just– Shit, Hermione. I'm not ready to be a dad. But how can I turn my back on it? On them?"

She had no clue. Hermione poured them each a second cup of tea–the answer to all problems when words failed–and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. There was only one thing she knew for certain: Ron would be a great dad. He just had to figure that out for himself. And decide if he was going to try. And figure out whether Alicia wanted him in her life or just the baby's. Hermione shook her head, it was too much to think about all at once.

"What are you going to do?" she asked once they'd each had a few, fortifying sips.

He shook his head. "You tell me."

"Ron," Hermione pulled back from him, his name a sigh on her lips. "I can't do that."

"But you always know the right thing to do."

"Yes. But I'm not the person you should be having this conversation with. Only you and Alicia can decide what's best for you both and the baby. Just because I have opinions–" Ron choked on his tea in what Hermione suspected was a snort of laughter. She rolled her eyes. "Just because I have opinions doesn't mean they're right."

"But you'll share them?" he asked, forlorn.

Hermione pursed her lips and shook her head. If she shared her thoughts with him, Ron wouldn't even think about other options. She couldn't do that to him, even if they were the same conclusions she figured he'd eventually work out for himself. At her silence Ron's face turned red, a sure sign of an explosion, but after a few moments of heavy breathing he sniffed, wiped his eyes and stood up.

"You're right," he said, cleaning his teacup with a quick scourgify and setting it back on the tray. "Course you are; you're always right. Even when I don't want to hear it. Thanks, Mione."

"Welcome," she said, standing with him and wrapping her arms around his waist. "Everything's gonna turn out fine. Just talk to Alicia and you'll see."

Ron nodded, his chin bumping the top of her head as he tightened his hold around her. "Guess Ginny'll get her wish for more nieces and nephews now, huh?"

Hermione chuckled and pulled away. "Yeah. And Aunt Mione will, too."

As quick as he had come, Ron left and Hermione reopened the shop. Pansy flooed not too long after to let her know that, luckily, JP decided he was too worn out to return. Hermione had breathed a sigh of relief. There was no guarantee she wouldn't hex him to kingdom come if Pansy wasn't there to stop her. For the rest of the day, Hermione kept herself busy straightening shelves, sweeping up and balancing the till as the last dozen customers flitted in and out. But her mind was filled with Ron's revelations and little else.

At six on the dot, Hermione ushered her last customer out of the store and locked the door behind them. She was just turning the sign to read, "Closed" when the floo crackled open.

"We're closed," she said automatically.

"I know.

"Oh," she gasped, recognizing the voice.

Turning, she saw Severus step into the room, his long, lean body unfolding from the fireplace as his dark gaze sought hers. As he warded the floo behind him, Hermione swallowed thickly, suddenly recalling his promise to return. To find out what happened that morning. She already knew he wouldn't like it. Her heart thudding against her ribs at the sight of him in a blue button down with his hair pulled back, and she realized there were a million things she'd rather do with Severus Snape than tell him about McLaggen. Now that she'd acknowledged her _feelings_ they were more obvious to her, thrumming in the background as he pocketed his wand and stared at her.

The entire store stretched between them but neither of them moved. Finally, Hermione couldn't take Severus' silent scrutiny any more.

"Did you have a good day?" she asked, deflecting.

His lips twitched and he shrugged one shoulder. When he spoke, Severus' voice was low and husky and sent a shiver down her spine. "Did you tell me everything that happened with McLaggen this morning?"

Hermione bit her lip then released it. "No."

Nodding, as though he expected that answer, Severus strode across the room with an indiscernible expression on his face. Hermione took a step back and bumped into the door as he stopped right in front of her, a little too close for comfort. Simultaneously, she thought he left much too much room between them.

When she opened her mouth to explain. Severus pressed one long finger against her lips. "Don't."

Hermione nodded and his finger moved to trace her jaw. His voice seemed to drop an octave. "Whatever you have to say is going to upset me. I don't want our first kiss to be while I'm angry. Is that alright?"

Hermione wasn't sure if he was asking permission to kiss her or simply letting her know what was about to happen. It didn't much matter to her as he cupped her cheek in his hand, stroking his thumb along her cheekbone. All the while he stared down at her with his too dark eyes. His touch set her heart to pounding and her gut twisted deliciously in anticipation. Darting her tongue out to moisten her lips, Hermione nodded.

"Say it," he demanded, leaning closer.

"Yes."

The word was swallowed up by his lips, his wonderfully soft and gentle lips that were pressing firmly against hers, waiting patiently for a response. A sound between a whimper and a sigh escaped her and it seemed to be the catalyst he needed to bury both hands in her hair and press her body against the door with the long, hard planes of his own as he deepened the kiss. Gently, teasingly, he nibbled her bottom lip until she opened up to him. Hermione closed her eyes, revelling in the feel of him kissing her, tasting her.

It ended altogether too soon for her liking. The disappointed sound she made when he pulled away had him chuckling and Hermione opened her eyes to find him smirking at her.

"That was nice," she said.

"Hmmm," he agreed, pecking her on the lips. "But now it's time for you to tell me about this morning."

Cold water dumped over her head couldn't have spoiled the mood more than those words. Frowning, Hermione jerked her head towards the sitting area and bit back another agravated sigh as he pulled his body away from hers. Who knew it would be so nice to be pressed up against a door by Severus Snape? She trailed him to the pair of chairs and plopped into one of them.

As he settled into the one she now thought of as _his chair_ , Hermione clutched one of Pansy's floral pillows to her stomach and curled her feet up under her. Staring pointedly at a design on the rug, she decided to start at the beginning.

"Last week when you came upon me with Cormac, it was after a disastrous business meeting. I had no idea he ran the company JP suggested I look into as a supplier or I would never have set up a meeting." Hermione thought about the meeting at the Hog's Head and shuddered. It had really been fortunate Severus had decided to call on her that night–even if his kiddos suffered–as she now realized she may not have shaken Cormac so easily had he not been there. "He was persistent but the contract was absurd. And he was unwilling to negotiate."

She left out the overt sexual advances Cormac had made that night. They had a whole new meaning in light of her morning.

"So you told him no?" Severus asked.

She nodded. "Exclusivity was not an option and, while he removed that from the contract after realizing I was serious about that, some of the other terms were outright ludicrous. I told him no and thought that was the end of it."

'Until today."

"Until today," Hermione agreed. Brushing her curls back off her face, she slid a tie off her wrist to keep them back. "Before you arrived this morning, Pansy noticed Cormac tossing paint at the shop. Apparently he didn't take too kindly to me signing Neville on as our supplier."

"Longbottom's only got a greenhouse," Severus interjected. "You'll still need a supplier for animal products and non-organics."

"Thank you, _professor_ ," Hermione snapped, reacting to the correcting tone in his voice. Realizing how harsh her response was, she took a deep breath and reminded herself that Severus was only trying to be helpful, not deriding her shopkeeping abilities. Leaning over, she grabbed one of his hands in hers, glanced up at the closed off expression on his face and apologized. "Sorry, JP picked at me all day. Not that that's any excuse. I'm just… sorry. I snapped at you and it was uncalled for."

Adam's apple bobbing, Severus returned her tight-lipped smile and urged her on, "Longbottom?"

"Neville has apparently branched out from his greenhouses and has a full-fledged potions supply company going on. He not only offered me a better contract but brought along a dozen crates of the highest quality ingredients at a steep discount to entice me. Along with the right to refuse any supplies I deem poor quality, his exclusivity offer was by far superior to Cormac's. I signed immediately. Cormac must have found out and decided to get back at me by vandalizing the front of my shop."

"I didn't see any paint when I got here," Severus said. "How did you clean it up so fast?"

Hermione shrugged. "Cormac did it. Household spells are not my forte. I went outside to confront him and when I pointed out he was throwing a tantrum like a two year old, he spelled the mess away."

"If he cleaned it up, why was he about to hit you when I arrived?"

Hermione tried to pull her hand away, to retreat back to the safety behind the floral pillow, but Severus clasped it all the more tightly, his black eyes locked on hers so she couldn't look away. Telling him what Cormac did would mean admitting she had been naive enough to let the stupid git get close enough to touch her. That she's been stupid enough to not ward her stoop as soon as she stepped outside. It would mean admitting that Cormac had kissed her. And even though Severus didn't have any claim on her that morning, being kissed by Cormac somehow felt like she had betrayed him.

"Hermione?" Severus prompted.

Why did discussing this made her feel weak and incompetent? Hermione sniffed and squared her shoulders. It wasn't her fault that Cormac did what he did, she reminded herself. It was Cormac's fault for being a right cad. And surely Severus would realize that, too.

"Because he thought he could charm me into backing out of my contract with Neville and signing one with him. When he forced himself on me, I kneed him in the balls. He didn't appreciate that and changed tactics."

As Severus' hand tightened convulsively on hers, Hermione worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Anger was rolling off him in palpable waves, sparking with his magic as he contemplated her words. Hermione stared at their hands, clasped midair and bridging the gap between them and choked down an apology. She wouldn't apologize for something that wasn't her fault.

Finally Severus spoke, his voice thick with emotions that his face refused to reveal. "You're telling the aurors."

It wasn't a question and he stood, dragging her up with him. Realizing he meant to drag her off to the aurors immediately, Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist to stop him. She propped her chin on his chest and looked up at him, willing him to return her gaze.

When he did, she spoke. "I've already owled Harry my memories."

"You're pressing charges?" Again, his words were less question than statement, though Hermione appreciated Severus' attempt at inflection this time.

"No," she stated firmly, pressing her own fingers to his lips to stop what was sure to be a stern and lengthy telling-off. "I can't have everyone thinking I can't handle myself as a businesswoman, Severus. Just because Cormac is at fault doesn't mean others won't look at the situation and think that I can't stand up for myself without calling in the authorities. Harry has instructions to keep the memories in evidence. If Cormac comes after me again, I'll have him arrested and charged."

Severus stared down at her and Hermione thought she saw a hint of pride hiding behind all the simmering anger. When it had become important for her to make Severus proud, she wasn't quite sure, but she liked the feeling. He looped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, burying his nose into her curls. Sighing, she closed her eyes and leaned into him. She didn't know what, exactly, this thing between them was. But it felt nice and right and made her warm with anticipation so she simply accepted the comfort he gave her and listened to his heart beat beneath her cheek.

"McLaggen is too invested in this contract. Why do you think that is?" Severus' voice rumbled beneath her cheek and Hermione would have smiled at the feeling if his words hadn't pinpointed the thing that had been bothering her since she saw the first orange splat of paint hit the window.

"It does seem a bit extreme, doesn't it?" she asked. "Risking assault and vandalism charges just to get one silly contract with a tiny shop in Hogsmeade. I mean, what's he going to get out of it, really? Surely there are better contracts he could be pursuing."

"Indeed," Severus growled. Hermione didn't mind when he held her a little more tightly. Nor when his chin settled atop her head as though he could wrap himself around her and protect her from the world. She didn't need protection–being perfectly able to take care of herself, thank you very much. And she was pretty sure Severus knew that. Still, it was nice that he thought she was worth protecting. Pressing a kiss against his arm, she snuggled closer and let the reverberations of his voice soothe her. "Indeed."

* * *

 _ **Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter and want to thank all of you who are following, favoriting and reviewing this story. It means the world to know there are people out there enjoying it.**_

 _ **This chapter was far too long but so many things had to happen on Grand Opening Day and I refused to do six parts for it. So instead you got a really super long chapter (okay, these four are all long chapters) and the fourth part will come out by next Monday at the latest (possibly sooner). Then we can move on. Promise.**_

 _ **Thank you again to all you lovelies for reading this story.**_

 _ **Blessings.**_


	10. 10) February 26, 2000, Part 4

**.**

 **Chapter 10**

 **.**

 ** _February 26, 2000, Part 4_**

Severus ground out a quick silencing charm and slammed the door behind him as he entered _Tomes & Scrolls_ several hours after he'd left Hermione's. The frigid walk through the back alleys of Hogsmeade had done nothing to cool his temper and he yanked the door open and slammed it again. And again. And again. Damn that wretched boy. How dare he attack Hermione like that! How dare he–

"I would have thought you'd be in a better mood tonight."

Lucius' drawl interrupted Severus' destruction of the door frame and he whirled around, for the first time in years missing the swishing of his teacher's robes as he glowered at his old friend. For his part, Lucius looked entirely nonplussed. The aristocrat was sitting in the high-backed chair he liked to transfigure out of a stool whenever he was watching the shop, looking quite regal with his long hair loose around his shoulders, sipping a tumbler of whiskey in front of the roaring fire. Stalking over to him, Severus snagged the tumbler out of his old friend's hands and tossed it back. Burning heat wound its way to his belly, not quite enough to soothe the fire already raging there.

Severus leaned against a nearby shelf and curled his lip. "What are you doing down here?"

Lucius had the gall to smile, conjure a second high-backed chair and gesture for Severus to take a seat. "Waiting up for you, of course. Did things not go well with your Hermione?"

Ignoring him–both the question and the request to sit–was easy. "I take it the kids are asleep?"

" _No,_ " Lucius' tone was drenched in sarcasm. "I just left them unsupervised in front of the fire so they could watch it like a tele-machine. Of course they're bloody well in bed. Now sit down."

"Television," Severus corrected. "Since you're here you may as well stay the night. I've got a potion to brew and send out with the morning post."

One elegant eyebrow arched above Lucius' pale grey eyes and he examined his cuticles closely as though thoroughly bored with the discussion. Parkinson could take lessons from him, Severus thought. "Revenge, Severus? I thought you'd gotten over that sort of petty behaviour ages ago. Who messed with your little muggleborn this time?"

Grinding his teeth hard enough to hear the cracking in his skull, Severus set the empty tumbler down, stalked across the room and pinned Lucius to the stupid, throne-like chair with one of his hands. He glared at his old friend.

"Do not test me tonight, Luci. Connor's boy attacked Hermione this morning."

At his words, Lucius perked up, the teasing glint fading from his eyes as he asked, "McLaggen's boy? The poncy one?"

Severus nodded and Lucius sneered. "Never did like that boy. Always a bit too pretty for his own good, just like his father."

Snorting, Severus pulled away from Lucius and settled into the second chair. Most people said the same thing about Lucius and Draco. Too pretty for their own good. Only Severus was close enough to the family to know exactly how true that sentiment was.

"He seems dead set on getting a contract out of her," Severus said.

"Foul play?"

"Foul something. Tried to seduce her." His molars almost survived that statement. Severus winced as they ground together and figured he might as well share the whole picture. His teeth were shot no matter what. Not that they'd ever been one of his better features. "Then tried to hit her."

"It's a good thing _Batman_ was there to rescue her."

"Calder told you," Severus guessed.

Lucius smirked. "It's all he could talk about. Your son believes you're a hero."

A lump formed in Severus' throat and he choked it down. "The world will disillusion him soon enough."

"Mmmm," Lucius agreed with a scowl. "No harm in letting him believe it for now, though."

Severus agreed entirely. Someday his children would learn just what the rest of the world thought of their father. The heartbroken spy. The Death Eater who tricked Harry Potter. The murderer. He dreaded that day more than anything. But for now his son thought he was the greatest man on the planet and he was his daughter's only love. And he was content with that. He would enjoy their love for as long as they could give it to him.

"So Mclaggen's being persistent." Lucius said. "What's he up to?"

"That," Severus responded darkly. "Is what I intend to find out."

The pair of them settled into silence, each caught up in their own thoughts. He, Hermione and now Lucius all agreed that McLaggen had to be up to something, but what? What could make a man risk business, reputation and freedom over something as insignificant as a business contract with a small, out-of-the-way potions shop? Nothing good, Severus decided, grinding his teeth even more. He consciously stuck his tongue between his molars. The grinding ceased.

"Is the Granger girl alright?" Lucius asked.

"Fine," Severus said. Then after several heartbeats, "I kissed her."

"Took you bloody long enough," Lucius said, wordlessly summoning his tumbler from where Severus had left it and conjuring one of his better bottles of Old Ogdens.

As Lucius poured himself a couple fingers, Severus frowned. "Pardon?"

Staring at him over the rim of the tumbler, Lucius smirked and spoke slowly as though Severus was dumb. "I said it took you bloody well long enough. I thought I'd never see you committed again."

"Nonsense," Severus drawled. "I would hardly call bumping into her a handful of times committed; it was just a kiss."

Waving a dismissive hand in the air, Lucius sniffed his whiskey before indulging in a single, miniscule sip. The taste must have suited as he hummed his approval and leaned back in the chair. Severus drummed his fingers into the arms of his own wingback chair as Lucius took another lingering sip. The man was a lesson in exasperation.

"Of course it wasn't just a kiss," Lucius finally purred. As though he held the key to all the secrets in the world.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, praying to any god that would listen for patience. Or that they would smite Lucius immediately so he didn't have to deal with his friend's dramatics. Certainly a rug would cover up any burns left behind from a good god-smiting?

When no smiting or patience came, Severus settled with responding. "It was. Trust me, Luci, I would know if anything else happened."

Hell, he'd probably still be over there if anything else had happened, his body curled around Hermione's as they napped off their passion. He certainly wouldn't be here, having an inane conversation with his business partner. But it was too soon. Too soon for him to have those kinds of feelings for her, let alone act on them. He pursed his lips. Too soon, indeed.

"Psh," Lucius waved his hand in the air again. "It was a kiss with the woman who helped take care of your family. Almost like a mother…"

"What are you driving at?" Severus snapped.

"Sassa turns two in a couple of months; I was starting to give up hope that you'd fulfill your promise to find her a mother." Propping one ankle on his knee, Lucius picked imaginary fluff from his pant leg and added, "Why, I would be surprised if the oath-bond magic isn't already at work."

"What did you say?" His voice was hardly more than a breathy whisper.

Lucius glanced at him. "The oath-bond magic. You promised Sassa a mother."

"You're being ridiculous," Severus said, but his words didn't have conviction. He felt cold clawing at his heart as he thought about Lucius' words. Now that it had been brought up, his friendship with Hermione had escalated rather quickly. Previously he'd passed it off as a shared history, an intense attraction, but now…

 _Child born of a curse. Fatherless. Motherless. Accept me and I will be your father. Trust me and I will find you a mother._ The words that he'd spoken, so many months ago though it felt like forever, had tied him to Sassa and Calder. Had tied them to him. It was just as possible that those same words had tied him to Hermione as soon as the oath magic deemed her worthy.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, wishing it wasn't true. But now that he was thinking about it, the oath-bond magic could have been at work since the first time he'd seen Hermione in his shop. He'd noticed her that day, strolling down his aisles looking like a winter-kissed angel. And hadn't he felt unusually drawn to her when she opened her shop up to him and Sassa only a week ago? Hadn't he spontaneously apparated that very morning when McLaggen raised his hand against her? Something he'd never done before despite having watched hundreds of women and men be tortured and killed in front of his very eyes? Anger and disappointment curled in his gut, a heady mix. He could almost feel the oath magic thrumming in his veins, curling around his memories of her, making him want her. Angry tears stung his eyes.

"Damnit!"

Why couldn't anything in his life be good just for the sake of being good?

Snatching the tumbler out of Lucius' hands again, Severus tossed back the burning liquid before flinging the glass across the store. As it shattered against the door he stood up from his chair and kicked it over, slamming the heel of his boot into the fabric-covered arm until it splintered and broke apart beneath him.

Why did magic have to twist everything up until he could never tell if his feelings were real or not?

He took one of the broken pieces and lobbed it into the fireplace, whirling around to find something else to destroy in his fury. If he'd known how much promising Sassa a mother would fuck with his life now… He picked up another piece of the chair and swung at a bookshelf. Suddenly two strong, lean arms wrapped themselves around him tightly, reigning him in and holding his thrashing body until all the fight had left him.

Once he'd exerted all his energy, Severus sagged against Lucius. His chest was heaving from exertion and his hands stung with splinters. His ankle hurt. Lucius simply held him, murmuring soothing nonsense into his ear as Severus stared glassily at the line of books in front of him. He loosed his grip on the broken piece of the chair. It thudded to the ground, breaking the silence.

"I don't want her if it's not real," Severus said brokenly, his mind conjuring the memory of their kiss. Had it been real? Like much of his life it was impossible to tell.

Lucius moved his hands to Severus' shoulders, clasping them tightly. When he spoke, it was as though he was calming a feral animal. "Did you not feel a spark when she walked through our doors? Before she ever met your children did you not sense a kinship with her? Blame the oath magic all you want, but it would never force your will. It was only ever meant to build upon what already existed. What was already real."

Leaning into his friend, eyes closed, Severus breathed deeply until his heart stopped pounding a riot against his ribs. How many times had Lucius comforted him like this? How many times had his old friend calmed him in the midst of a rage? His words were hope. Severus longed to believe them, to believe that it wasn't the magic creating his compulsion to be near Hermione but true, honest desire. But could he risk trusting the old snake this time? With his heart and Hermione's on the line? With his children's happiness at stake? Taking one final, shuddering breath, he withdrew from the comforting embrace and repaired the broken chair with a flick of his wand.

"I cannot pursue her until I know for sure that it's real. I won't bend to another bond," he said with finality.

The set in Lucius' jaw said his friend didn't agree with him, but Severus didn't much care. Lucius had already ruined his night, snuffed out the joy he'd found in Hermione's embrace, and Severus wasn't going to be guilted into whatever his friend thought was best for him. Not with how much there was to lose. He was done being forced to bow down to oaths and bonds. He'd buried that part of his life with Dumbledore and Voldemort and Sassa Rowle. As Lucius settled back into his chair and summoned a new tumbler, Severus set off for the stairs. He was suddenly so very tired. And so very sad. And he had a lot to do before he retired for the night.

"Don't stay up too late," he counseled, turning off the lights in the shop with a nox so that only the warm glow of the fire was visible in the store. "You're taking the early shift tomorrow."

Lucius' silver eyes caught the firelight and shone like cats eyes as he turned to face Severus. "It will be difficult to brew up your revenge without any ingredients."

Severus' shoulders drooped. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall of the stairwell. Clearly he recalled the crate of ingredients he'd ordered, and the exact spot in Hermione's shop where it was undoubtedly still sitting, forgotten. He was grinding his teeth again. He could feel the pressure in his jaw. There was no way he could go back for those ingredients now. Not knowing that some kind of compulsion magic could be at work on him. On Hermione. Returning would put them at risk of succumbing. He bit his tongue. Life was not fair. Not for him.

But he damned well couldn't let McLaggen get off thinking he could go forcing himself on witches and knocking them about when they turned him down. He could _almost_ believe it wasn't so much about Hermione as it was about the principle of the thing. Wizards didn't do that shite and get away with it.

He was kidding himself. Of course it was about Hermione. Even as resolved as he was to not pursue her, Severus couldn't help but want to protect her. To make sure McLaggen knew that while Hermione would crush his balls and hex him to smithereens if he tried anything else, Severus could make that experience look like a slap on the wrist without even using his wand. And he would, if the pompous arse ever touched his Hermione again.

"Perhaps," he choked out, refusing to meet Lucius' luminous eyes. "You could have some of your old contacts look into McLaggen before I, as you put it, brew up some revenge. So we know what we're dealing with."

"Hmmmm," Lucius all but purred. Severus could just picture him swirling the whiskey around in his glass, pretending to consider it. "It has been some time since I caught up with the boys. Perhaps," Severus scowled deeper at the mocking tone. "I could encourage them to look into his affairs."

Severus nodded and started up the steps, weary to his bones. Lucius' muttered, "Stubborn fool," following him up to the apartment. Stubborn, yes. But only a fool would bow down to another oath. Another bond. That was his old life. And even if it meant he missed out Hermione being in his new life, he'd long ago learned to live with disappointment. How hard could it be to do once again? __

* * *

 ** _Should I apologize for this chapter? Perhaps the cursing was a bit much... Severus is very angry, though. And maybe things going tits up wasn't quite what you expected. But really, I can't help it if we're at the halfway point, can I ? And I can't help it if Lucius can't keep his darned mouth closed._**

 ** _I will apologize for not apologizing, though._** ** _And, in spite of the cursing and the sky-focused tits, I hope you did enjoy this chapter. And are enjoying this story. As I mentioned, we're about halfway there (give or take a few thousand words, probably) and things should clip along nicely from here-on-out. I am so very thankful for each and every one of you who has followed, favorited and reviewed this story. You're wonderful. I hope you hang with me to the end._**

 ** _Blessings._**


	11. 11) March 5, 2000

**.**

 **Chapter 11**

 **.**

 _ **March 5, 2000**_

Hermione dried her hair with a quick spell before twisting the frizz into a loose bun at the base of her skull. She grabbed her music player and tucked her wand into the seam pocket of her jogging pants before heading down the stairs to her potions shop. Pansy was sitting on her stool at the counter, head bent over yet another magazine as she ignored the world around her. Hermione smirked and slowed down. Skipping the third step from the bottom–which squeaked horribly–she sneaked up behind Pansy and prepared to scare her.

"Don't even think about it, Granger," the Slytherin drawled.

Hermione huffed and made her way in front of the counter. "How did you know?"

One black eyebrow arched though Pansy's attention never strayed from the new copy of Witch Weekly Magazine she was flicking through. Hermione pursed her lips and leaned against the counter, stretching her calves a little as she did. She wondered if Severus had taught every Slytherin under his tutelage to be hyper aware or if it was just part of Pansy's nature. Probably a bit of both, she supposed, rolling her shoulders and jogging in place to warm up.

"I'm going for a run. If Neville comes–" Pansy curled her lip and made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat at Neville's name but Hermione steadfastly ignored it. "If Neville comes while I'm gone, please let him know the banknote is on my lab table. He can just take it and I'll floo him if there's any product to return. And make sure he puts the crates in the far west corner of the lab. And–"

Pansy rolled her eyes and pushed Hermione off the counter. "I think even Longbottom can figure out how to stack crates and collect a banknote, Granger. Get out of here; I have an article on Blaise Zabini to read."

"Is he your next boyfriend?" Hermione teased.

Pansy met Hermione's gaze, her expression dead serious. "He's going to be my first husband," she corrected.

Hermione snorted, finished her stretches and did as she was bade. Outside, the bitter chill of winter nipped at her through the light material of her jacket and pants and she quickly jumped off the stoop and settled into a nice jog. Within minutes she was pink-cheeked and toasty.

As she had every morning since moving to Hogsmeade, Hermione rounded the corner onto the road leading up to Hogwarts and put on a little extra speed. She tried her hardest not to slow down in front of Severus' bookshop, tried to pretend she didn't glance through the window displays searching for a flash of dark hair, and instead focused on her breathing as she climbed the steep slope past the bookstore and up all the way to the Hogwarts gates. Her mind, however, was far away from the the methodic pumping of her legs and cheerful music buzzing through her earbuds. It was instead reminiscing about her unexpected kiss with Severus.

As she turned around at the top of the hill and headed back down it, Hermione sighed. She hadn't seen Severus since that evening a week ago. Pansy had assured her he'd come back to pick up his order, though her employee had been a little too interested in trying to find out just why Severus had left it there in the first place so Hermione hadn't been able to see if he'd asked after her. But even her morning runs and her stops into the Three Broomsticks hadn't so much as earned her a sighting of the wizard. She turned before reaching the bookstore and slowed down as she approached the park, consciously changing her breathing as she settled into the easier pace. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought Severus was avoiding her. But after years as his student and fellow Order Member, she was certain that he would be nothing if not upfront about his feelings–the good, the bad and the ugly. So it was probably just happenstance that they kept missing one another.

Besides, she thought, it wasn't as though they were committed or anything. He had no reason to pop up in her life any more often than he used to. It was just one kiss. A very nice kiss, yes, but a single kiss nonetheless. She figured if Severus wanted to pursue anything further, he would do so. And until then, she'd try not to dwell on it so much. After all, he had children to consider; Hermione just had her own heart to protect.

With that in mind, Hermione cast off all thoughts of Severus and circled around the park–it was a new addition to Hogsmeade since her school years. In the summer, Hermione heard it was a favorite place for the local children to play but that was hard to imagine with how still and quiet it was in the winter. The play equipment all wore a thick cushion of snow on it and the path was visible only because of the hundreds of feet that had trampled the snow down on their way to the Three Broomsticks. Hermione moved onto that path, embracing the rhythm of her run as her feet carried her beneath a mature willow tree, it's weeping boughs kissed white with frost.

She'd barely passed from under the willow's shadow when she hit a patch of ice. With a squeal, Hermione went down, her ankle twisting with an unnatural crack as she flopped gracelessly into a snow drift.

"Merlin," she cursed, biting her lip as the surprise of her fall melted away beneath a hot wave of pain shooting up from her ankle. She tried to flex it and found that any movement whatsoever only further exacerbated her pain.

Gingerly she rolled onto her back, elevating her injured foot on the opposite knee as snow slipped into the collar of her jacket and froze the back of her neck. She hunted for her wand and realized it must have slipped out of her pocket when she fell.

"Shit," she said, closing her eyes and dropping her head back into the snow in defeat. How was she supposed to get help now?

"Bad word," an unfamiliar voice sing-songed back to her.

Hermione opened her eyes and found herself staring into the most beautiful pair of blue eyes she'd ever seen. A pretty little girl was staring down at her. As a halo of golden-blonde curls became visible around the little girl's face, Hermione relaxed ever-so-slightly. She recognized this child.

"Hello, Sassa," she said, plucking the earbuds from her ears and grimacing up at the little girl in what she hoped would be taken as a smile. "Where's your father?"

The little girl shrugged and sniffled and it was then that Hermione noticed the tear tracks on her face. Pushing herself up onto her elbows, Hermione momentarily forgot about the pain in her ankle.

"Are you lost?" she asked.

Sassa nodded and her bottom lip quivered. If it hadn't been such a serious moment, and if Hermione hadn't been in so much pain, she might have chuckled at the little girl's expression. She just looked so pitiful and sad it was almost unreal. As Sassa looked around, as though contemplating running off again, Hermione realized that she had to keep the little girl with her–it was the only way to make sure she stayed safe. She didn't doubt that Severus would be looking for his daughter and would find them in no time.

"I'm Miss Hermione, do you remember me at all?" she asked.

Sassa shook her head and took a few steps back. Hermione tried again.

"I'm friends with your daddy," she soothed.

"Dada?" Sassa asked, her eyes widening even further. "Where Da?

Hermione opened her arms slowly, hoping not to further frighten the skittish child. "Your daddy said he wants you to stay with me. He's going to come find us."

As Sassa's lip quivered and she looked at Hermione with an expression of half-longing and half-fear, Hermione lowered her injured leg onto the ground and packed a handful of snow into a ball. Slowly, without taking her eyes off Sassa, she murmured an incantation and transfigured the snowball into a single, purple flower. Her wandless magic wasn't great but Hermione figured Sassa wasn't going to grade her on the half-wilted petals or the still-cold-to-the-touch stem. She held it out to Sassa like a peace offering.

"Please sit with me until your dad comes back?" she asked gently. "I hurt myself and could really use a friend right now."

Slowly, slowly, Sassa stretched her hand out. When her pudgy fingers closed around the flower, Hermione relaxed and patted her lap. "Come sit with me," she encouraged.

Sassa dropped into her lap like a stone and Hermione bit back a cry as the movement shot pain straight up her leg from her ankle. Wrapping one arm around the toddler, Hermione hunted in the snow for her wand with her free hand. All the while she talked to Sassa like sitting on the frozen ground was the most natural thing in the world.

"I met your brother the other day, did you know that?"

"Cal?" Sassa asked, tilting her head back to look into Hermione's eyes.

"Yes," Hermione said. "I bet he's a good big brother. He has eyes just like yours. Calder seems to like potions. Do you like potions, too?"

Sassa shrugged and snuggled closer, Hermione suddenly realized the little girl wasn't dressed for outside and wondered if she'd gotten out of the bookstore on her own. Based on how many layers Calder had worn when he'd visited her shop, she had to assume so. Pursing her lips, Hermione gave up the hunt for her wand. She unzipped her jacket and pulled it off.

"Here," she said, wrapping the material–warm from her body if a little sweaty–around Sassa. "I don't want you to catch a cold."

Wrapping her arms around the bundled toddler, Hermione muttered a warming charm. It settled around them lukewarm and faded too quickly. She tucked her head on top of Sassa's curls and muttered another one anyway. Lukewarm was better than the wet cold seeping through the back of her t-shirt.

"Sassa, do you know how to use magic?" Hermione asked.

Sassa shrugged and Hermione restated the question. "Did you use magic to leave the bookstore?"

"Dunno," Sassa said, humming to herself as she twirled the flower between her fingers. She held the purple flower up to Hermione's nose and said. "Pwetty."

Hermione smiled. "Yes, it's a very pretty flower. I used magic to make it. Did you do something similar to get outside today?"

Sassa shrugged again and Hermione figured she probably just followed a customer out or something. Heck, Sassa probably didn't even understand the question. From what Hermione recalled from the books she'd read, most witches and wizards didn't show signs of magic until they were five or older. Though Hermione herself had shown her first signs of magic before her second birthday, she knew that kind of power was a rarity. And while Severus was a powerful wizard in his own right, she didn't know if his adopted children would have inherited any of his power through their magical bond. Hermione worried her bottom lip between her teeth and wondered if she could research that. It would be interesting to know how much magical adoption changed–

"Little," Sassa mumbled and Hermione dragged herself out of her thoughts.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, what?"

Sassa blinked up at her and held up the flower. Before Hermione's eyes it turned from purple to a very soft yellow. "Little," Sassa restated.

An unexpected rush of pride flooded Hermione at the show of magic and she couldn't help but smile at the little girl and cuddle her closer. "Oh, Sassa. That's wonderful."

Sassa giggled and wriggled and found her way out of Hermione's arms until she was standing on her legs with Hermione's jacket draped over her shoulders like a miniature version of a cloak. She held the flower between their faces, focusing intently, and it cycled through a myriad of colors from bright blue to a hideous puce before turning back to its original purple color.

"Good?" Sassa asked.

Hermione nodded. "Very good. But you shouldn't have used magic to get out of the bookshop. It wasn't safe. Your father's going to be very upset when he finds us."

"That is quite the understatement, Granger."

Hermione gasped and tossed her head back, looking up, up, up until her gaze met the dark eyes of Severus Snape. He was full on scowling at her. Very upset was definitely an understatement–he'd resorted to calling her Granger after all. Even as she withered under his acid stare, she still felt a rush of joy and relief flood through her. As mad as he was, Severus would help her.

"Dada!" Sassa squealed, wiggling free of Hermione and throwing herself at Severus' black-clad legs.

"Hello, precious," he murmured, scooping his daughter into his arms. After checking Sassa over, he moved his gaze back to Hermione. "Everything okay?"

Hermione sighed and "I'm really glad to see you, Severus, but the next time we meet I'd like to ditch the damsel routine."

His eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

Hermione shivered and leaned back on her elbows, clearly he wasn't in the mood for chit-chat. "I was out for my morning jog and slipped on the ice. As I was searching for my wand, your daughter stumbled upon me and I realized she must have gotten away from you somehow. I convinced Sassa to sit with me and, well, you showed up."

Severus dragged his gaze across Hermione, from head to toes, as though searching for proof of her explanation. A flicker of emotion passed through his eyes when they settled on her ankle and Hermione tried not to flinch when he withdrew his wand.

" _Accio_ Hermione's wand," he drawled.

Her wand soared out of the snowpile only a few feet away from her and Severus deftly caught it in the same hand as his own. He cast a complicated set of warming charms and wards over her and Hermione eased back into the snow pile as his magic flowed over her body. She hadn't realized her teeth had been chattering until they stopped and she blinked up at him when he peeled his own jacket off and draped it over her. It was warm from his body heat and carried his distinct scent to her nose. Hermione relaxed completely only after he handed back her wand.

"Thank you," she said.

He nodded once and turned away. "I'll be right back."

Hermione wasn't sure how long Severus was gone but the pain from her ankle re-emerged with a vengeance in his absence. Probably the warming charms, she thought, trying to wiggle her toes and being uncertain if she had succeeded. The cold would have dulled the pain. By the time she could hear his long strides crunching through the snow, she was reciting every potions ingredient known to mankind to keep from focus on the sharp pain radiating up her leg.

"Where's Sassa?" she asked when he stepped into her field of vision.

"I took her home." Severus kneeled at her feet, slender fingers hovering above her injured foot as he met her gaze. "May I?"

She nodded and bit back her cry as he tugged off her running shoe and peeled her sock–soaked through with melted snow–off her foot. His fingers felt cool on her overheated skin as they pressed gently, searchingly around her ankle. Hermione swallowed whimpers and moans as the touches sparked nothing but pain. When he had finished, she propped herself back up so she could see the damage herself. Already her ankle was swollen and turning a disturbing shade of purple.

"Broken," he muttered. "Do you want me to fix it?"

"Yes please."

"It will hurt."

Hermione chuckled darkly. "I've had worse."

He looked at her then and Hermione felt her heart beat a little faster as his gaze seemed to search her face. She wished she could get a read on his emotions. Or tell what he was thinking. But his expression was carefully blank.

" _Tarsium Emendo_ ," Severus intoned, his eyes never leaving Hermione's face.

Her ankle felt very hot and then very cold and with a sharp, painful pop, Hermione felt it mend back together again. The feeling made her light-headed and nauseous. As she swayed, Hermione reached for Severus' arm to steady herself. She'd had worse, she reminded herself, closing her eyes to the sensation. But it had been a while and she'd clearly gotten used to her cushy life of minor cuts and burns from potions making.

When she felt she could speak without throwing up or crying, Hermione did so. "Thank you. I'm not good at casting healing spells on myself."

"No one is. I suppose I should thank you for keeping Sassa with you," he met her gaze then and Hermione was shocked at the emotion suddenly shining in his black eyes. Quietly, Severus admitted, "I was scared to death when I saw the shop door open and realized she was gone. When I find out which idiot left it open, I'm going to skin them alive."

Hermione patted his arm soothingly. "I'm very glad she found me, too. But you have to know, Severus, that no one left that door open. Sassa opened it all by herself."

His eyes narrowed and he glared down his hawk's nose at her. His tone was accusing. "And how do you suppose my 74 centimeters tall daughter opened the door to my shop and got through my wards all by herself? Because I assure you, it's impossible."

Hermione crossed her arms and glared back at Severus. "Nothing is impossible with magic," she said.

"My daughter cannot do magic."

Hermione bristled. "She can too. I saw her do it."

He stood up and sneered at her, looking every bit the greasy git of the dungeons Ron and Harry used to accuse him of being. "You saw my daughter tear down my wards and walk out my front door? Was that before or after you broke your ankle? Are you sure you weren't just delusional from pain?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione said, pushing herself up from the ground. She faltered, her ankle nearly collapsing out from under her, and Severus grabbed her elbow to steady her. His expression never changed from one of disdain. "I saw her change the colors of the flower I gave her. I asked her how she got out of the bookstore."

"Ah yes," Severus drawled nastily. "And I'm sure Sassa was positively eloquent when she explained the incantations she used?"

"Now you're just being ridiculous." Hermione yanked her elbow out of Severus' hand and pushed her finger into his chest. "If you don't believe me, search my memories."

That surprised him. Hermione almost smirked at the way his sneer faltered and his eyes widened. He swatted her hand away from his chest and shrugged nonchalantly.

"That won't be necessary," he said.

"So you believe me?"

"Does it matter?"

Hermione pursed her lips. Of course it bloody well mattered. If Sassa got out once, she could do it again. There was a fleeting thought in the back of her mind wondering why she cared so much but Hermione ignored it. He wasn't going to listen to her so Hermione did the only thing she could think of. "If you won't believe me, I'll have to show you. _Ostendimens_."

She had a brief moment to see him blink in shock before she pushed her memories forward into his mind. Immediately she was reliving the feeling of pride at seeing the flower turn yellow, then her astonishment when Sassa stood on her legs and showed off just how many different colors she could create. She was asking the little girl if she has used magic, could feel her warmth against her chest as she cuddled her close and tried to find the right way to word her question. Before Sassa answered, however, Hermione felt herself being pushed out of Severus' mind. She jerked backwards, nearly falling over as the real world rushed back into focus and Severus' dark, angry eyes were staring at her.

She swallowed hard. "Do you believe me now?"

His adam's apple bobbed. "Yes," he choked out reluctantly.

Hermione slumped in relief, running a hand through her hair and pulling a few strands loose from her bun as excitement bubbled up within her. "Oh, thank Merlin," she said. "Now you can get her a play wand and teach her how to control it and–"

"Don't presume to tell me how to care for my children, Granger. You are not their mother."

Hermione gasped at the harshness in Severus' tone and it took her mind a moment to catch up with his words. She flushed pink at his insinuation. "I know that! I wasn't trying to be her... I mean, I was just excited for–" Recognizing the closed-off look on his face, Hermione blinked back tears and dropped her gaze to his shoes and her one bare foot. She wondered how they had gotten from kissing just a week ago to marking territory like two wild kneazles today. Clearly she had overstepped her bounds and she fought to find the right words to apologize. "I've just heard Molly tell stories about Ron and Ginny's first play wands. And I know how excited Andromeda was when Teddy showed his first signs of magic. That wasn't the world I was born into and I got over-excited. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to tell you how to handle Sassa's magic. Or trying to mother her or anything of the sort. I wouldn't dare."

"Good," he snapped. After a moment he spelled her shoe and sock back onto her foot before adding, "Can you make it back on your own?"

Her ankle hurt like hell and she was pretty sure she was going to limp for a few days, but Hermione nodded anyway. She didn't think she could handle being escorted home by him. Not after Severus had made his feelings about her so abundantly clear.

"I'll be fine," she said.

"Hermione," his voice softened and she pursed her lips. Now it was Hermione?

"Goodbye, Mister Snape" she said with finality, trying her hardest not to limp as she turned away from him. She made it three steps before she heard the snow crunch as he, too, walked away. When she was certain he was gone, she brushed the tears off her cheeks and reminded herself that it had just been one kiss.

"It's not like we're committed or anything," she whispered.

* * *

 _ **Ach, I know. It's terrible. But I got to "make up" two spells, which was fun (as in I looked up the Latin for "to send" and "ankle bone" and amended preexisting spells to fit them) and I got to write a winter scene, which happens to be my favorite type of scene to write. Severus really does get a hug evenutally. I promise. (-:**_

 ** _As always, thank you so much for reading. I truly am stunned at the number of follows, favorites and reviews this fic is getting and I'm so appreciative to you all for letting me know how it's going and what you think. Much love to you all for the support._**

 ** _Blessings._**


	12. 12) March 14, 2000

**.**

 **Chapter 12**

 **.**

 _ **March 14, 2000**_

"No! Nonononono. No!"

Severus reinforced the silencing spells on his son's bedroom door as Sassa's screams increased in volume and pitch. He stood above her with his hands on his hips and a blank look on his face. He'd given up trying to pick her up ten minutes ago after realizing she'd stuck herself to the ground using her newly discovered magic. It was a trick he did not appreciate. Not at all.

"Sassa," he scolded gently. "It is time for bed."

"Noooooo!" she wailed, mimicking her father's posture. Her face was bright red and tears were pouring down her cheeks as she descended further into her melt down. "Don' wanna!"

"Unfortunately, you are the child and I am the adult. And sometimes you have to do things you don't want to because the adult knows what is best for you. Now, please, can daddy pick you up and take you to bed?"

He reached for her and she flinched away, her screams changing to a sob-soaked chant of, "Don' wan' you. Don' wan' you," and Severus was fairly certain her words were arrows designed to pierce his heart. Schooling his features so as not to show how upset her words were making him, Severus took a few calming breaths before speaking.

"Fine, if you don't want me, perhaps Uncle Luci will put you to bed," he said.

Warding the area around where his daughter stood in the middle of the hallway, Severus turned his back on her and strode quickly to the floo. One pinch of floo powder later, he stuck his head in the fireplace and called out for Lucius' study.

The blond was sitting at his desk, babying a glass of firewhiskey. He started when Severus' head appeared in his fireplace.

"Severus?"

"No, I'm the boogeyman," Severus snapped. "Who else would be calling you this late at night?"

Lucius shrugged. "Well, I have a few lady friends…"

"Do I look like a lady friend?"

"No," Lucius conceded. He set down his glass and came closer to the fire. "You look like hell."

"Yes, well–" Severus started, but his voice was overwhelmed by Sassa's screams.

Lucius frowned and dropped to his knees in front of the fireplace. "Is someone having a rough night?"

Severus nodded. Swallowing his pride, he stared his old friend directly in the eyes and asked, "Sassa has decided she does not want me to put her to bed. Would you mind coming over to help?"

For once in his life, Lucius wisely kept his mouth shut and simply nodded. "Of course. I'll be right through."

Severus dipped his chin and pulled his head out of the fire. Minutes ticked by like hours as Sassa wailed from her spot glued to the floor and Severus simply watched her, his arms folded over his chest. When he was just about ready to floo Lucius again and ask what on Merlin's wand was taking so long, the fire finally turned green and Lucius stepped through. He walked straight past Severus towards the little girl.

"Sassa, darling, what's wrong?" Lucius cooed, bending over to scoop Severus' daughter off the floor. Severus tried not to let the fact that she let _him_ pick her up without complaint affect him. He failed.

As Lucius continued to speak in soothing tones to his daughter and headed down the hall for her bedroom, Severus turned away and settled onto the floor. Leaning against the couch, with his legs stretched out toward the fire, he scowled. His daughter had never rejected him before. Sure, they'd had some rough bedtimes–what parents didn't–but he'd never had her outright refuse him before. It felt a little like someone had ripped his heart out of his chest and stomped on it. Repeatedly.

So caught up in his own misery, Severus missed Lucius' soft steps back to the living room. Lucius coughed, drawing his attention, and Severus arched his eyebrow.

"Is she asleep?"

Lucius nodded, leaning against the bookshelf and running his fingers along the spines of Severus' personal collection before pulling out a title and putting it back again. "Poor thing tired herself out. She fell asleep before I even got her in the crib."

Throat tight, Severus nodded. "Thank you."

Lucius nodded and, seemingly done perusing the books, joined Severus in the sitting area. Though the blond took the leather arm chair instead of lowering himself to actually sitting on the ground. Severus returned to staring into the flames.

"Are you alright?" Lucius asked after a time.

"She didn't want me."

Lucius clasped his shoulder. "Welcome to parenthood. When Draco turned three he wouldn't let anyone but Dobby touch him for weeks. Tore Cissy apart."

"Still," Severus said, not having the ability to articulate just how much his daughter's words had upset him. He knew it was the same–exactly the same–but because it was happening to him it felt, somehow, different. Terrible. Worse than Lily's rejection or getting the Dark Mark or both combined. "Still," he repeated.

Squeezing his shoulder once, Lucius withdrew before speaking. "It's no surprise after all the brooding you've been doing these past few weeks. Even I don't want to be around you."

"I'm not brooding," Severus snarled.

If Lucius hadn't been a pureblood with impeccable manners and perfect poise, Severus would have classified the sound that escaped his friend as a snort. But, of course, Lucius was a pureblood, so he couldn't possibly have snorted, and therefore Severus had no choice but to believe his friend was laughing at him. A very short, nasally laugh.

"Shut up," he growled. "You'd be brooding too if you did what I did."

"Shunned a beautiful woman? Snapped at her when she was excited about your child's accomplishments? Or watched her hobble away on an injured foot without making sure she made it home safely?" Lucius asked, his voice as slick as silk.

"I made sure she got home safe," Severus defended.

There was that noise again. Severus arched a brow at his old friend as the man snorted–definitely snorted–at him and turned his prissy little nose up into the air. "Right, with a tracking spell that you've since used to avoid her at every opportunity. Very gentlemanly. Order of Merlin shite right there."

Pushing himself up from the floor, Severus stalked across the narrow room before turning to face his friend. "You really know how to make a friend feel better, Luci, you know that?"

Lucius' expression had no mirth in it and the blond arched an eyebrow at him. "Feel better? I have no intention of making you feel better about what you did. Poor Hermione was blindsided by your moodiness and I hope you choke on your guilt."

"Poor Hermione?" Severus narrowed his eyes. "When did she become Hermione to you?"

"As soon as she became Hermione to you," Lucius snapped. "What is important to you is important to me, after all."

Severus turned to the bookshelf and ran his fingers over the books there, finding the one that was out of place and selecting it. "Even though she's a muggleborn?"

Lucius shrugged and stood. "Does it matter?"

"It used to."

Lucius nodded his agreement and Severus flipped open the slender leather volume he'd plucked from his shelves. The title page read, On Bonds and Oaths, and he ran his fingers over the printed letters.

"You've a habit of leaving books where they don't belong," Severus drawled, flipping through the pages that were as familiar to him as most potions recipes.

It had been Lucius, after all, who he had gone to when he needed to find a spell to adopt the Rowle children. Like all purebloods, the Malfoys had a library of magicks old and new that had been cultivated by generations and it was this book in particular that Severus had used to craft his oath bond for the children. Snapping the book closed, Severus tossed it back to Lucius. He already knew what the book would say. About oath bonds and Hermione.

Lucius caught the book and placed it on the mantle beside the floo powder. "You needed a reminder."

"Hmmmm," Severus replied. "I suppose you think this will change my mind?"

Lucius tilted his head noncommittally. "You already regret it."

Damn the man, but he was right. Abandoning the bookshelf, Severus settled into his armchair and rubbed his temples. He'd regretting lashing out at Herm–Miss Granger–as soon as he'd done it. Just because they were under some oath-bond compulsion didn't mean he had to be a right arse to her. Especially because he'd done worse than McLaggen and… what was the muggle saying? Kicked her while she was down? Scowling at himself, Severus stared at the pattern on the rug and, damnit, he brooded. Was he forever destined to fuck up the best things in his life out of some misplaced sense of self-preservation?

With his head down, Severus didn't notice Lucius' smirk. He did, however, hear his old friend say, as casually as if discussing the weather, "If you'll excuse me, I'm late for a meeting with some old friends."

Severus snapped his head up and stared at the blond intently. "The boys?"

Lucius nodded and Severus started mentally running through the ingredients he had and the different, untraceable potions he could brew overnight to deliver in the morning. Depending on what the boys said, he'd have to have a few options ready to send to McLaggen. Bubotuber pus would be too obvious, but perhaps a time-delayed boil solution? Or maybe something to make the man's nose grow when he lied? Or he could mix them. Oh yes, make something to cause immediate pain and postponed humiliation… that would be quite effective.

He was halfway to his feet when Lucius tossed some floo powder into the fire and drawled, "Don't plan anything yet. This is just our first meeting."

"You'll bring up McLaggen, though?" Severus all but demanded.

Lucius gave him the same look he used to give Draco when Hermione trumped his grades in school. Disdainful disappointment. "You've been out of the game too long, old friend," he said as he stepped into the flames. "Patience."

"Patience be damned," Severus cursed under his breath, but Lucius was already gone.

* * *

 _ **Thank you for reading, following, favoriting and reviewing. I cannot believe there are over four hundred of you following this story; it's mind-blowing. And to all you loyal reviewers out there, thank you for taking time out of your day to drop even a word or two of kindness for this story. It makes my day to read your comments.**_

 _ **Next up is another full moon. My aim is to try and get a chapter out mid-week but that all depends on if I'm able to remain upright long enough to edit it. I'm suffering some dizzying adverse reactions to my new meds and have been horizontal on the couch for ten days. It's very boring.**_

 _ **Thanks again for reading!**_ ** _Blessings._**


	13. 13) March 20, 2000

**.**

 **Chapter 13**

 **.**

 _ **March 20, 2000, Part 1**_

"Granger?"

Pansy's voice echoed down the stone stairwell but Hermione finished stirring the powdered bicorn horn into the experimental potion she was working on before she responded. "Is it that time already?"

"Already? I've been waiting all day for this."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Pansy's response. Placing a stasis charm on the cauldron, she double checked that none of the other six cauldrons needed her immediate attention before heading to the steps. Most of the potions were set to simmer overnight or were in the last stages of cooling before she could bottle them. They could all wait until tomorrow. She hung her dragonhide apron–a gag present from Harry that was charmed to look like a muggle t-shirt featuring a sexy, bikini-clad body instead of plain, boring leather–on a hook by the stairs. She wore it because it made her smile. And because Pansy absolutely hated it. Hermione climbed up the stairs as Pansy's pale face peered down at her from the door.

"You didn't have to wait for me," Hermione huffed as her shop assistant–who, she had learned, behaved more like she owned the place–all but pulled her up the last couple of steps and into the warmly lit shop. "The store could survive being unattended for ten minutes."

Pansy snorted, already transfiguring her work robes into something in a dusky purple color that Hermione thought was too racy for a dinner date. Then again, in the five weeks Pansy had worked with her she'd already had more action than Hermione had seen since before the war. Especially now that things with Severus had cooled down to the point where they were in danger of an ice age. Perhaps there was something to Pansy's choice in outfit.

"We both know it would have been more than ten minutes, Granger. You'd finish stirring and then something else would catch your eye and you'd be down there until morning. I'd come in to find you catatonic over your simmering cauldrons, having completely forgotten your plans to collect ingredients tonight. And then you'd bitch about it all day."

Slumping onto the stool behind the counter, Hermione frowned. "How is it you know me so well?"

Simply rolling her eyes, Pansy performed some tricky spellwork on her dark hair to make it spiral and dance into a perfect updo. Rotating in front of Hermione, so she could see everything from the loose tendrils of hair arranged around her perfectly made up face to the deep vee of fabric revealing almost her entire back, Pansy asked, "So?"

"You look fantastic, as usual," Hermione grumped. She wore a smile, though. "I wish I could pull off an outfit like that."

Pansy smirked back. "We can't all be mind-blowingly intelligent, you know. Some of us mere mortals have to doll up to get a man."

"Psh," Hermione blew past the compliment. "Brains may catch them, but they clearly don't keep 'em."

Arching one of her immaculate eyebrows, Pansy pursed her lips into a thin line and narrowed her heavily painted eyelids. "You know why Snape hates dunderheads, Granger?"

"No, why?" It was best, Hermione had learned, to just follow Pansy wherever she led the conversation.

Pansy smirked. "Because he is one. Self-loathing, Granger. Like a snake devouring its own tail, Snape is stuck in a perpetual loop of self-flagellation."

"That's a ten-point word, Miss Parkinson," Hermione intoned in her best teacher voice. If it made her sound a little like the man they were discussing, well then, at least she'd learned from the best.

Pansy giggled and tossed her head. "I do read more than _Witch Weekly_ , you know."

Hermione joined in Pansy's laughter before waving her shop assistant off. "Shoo. You're already fashionably late. I don't want Zabini apparating here thinking you've stood him up."

With a nod and a brush of fingertips on Hermione's shoulder, Pansy darted for the door. It was her third date with Blaise and Hermione was just about convinced that Pansy was indeed going to land her first husband exactly the way she'd planned. She propped her chin on the heel of her hand and let herself get lost in a daydream where Pansy taught her all the tips and tricks to catching a man. One who would appreciate her brains as more than just a passing draw and would press her against the shop door for a heated kiss before locking up and leading her to the rug in front of the fire where he's slowly peel off her–

"Longbottom." Hermione's daydream was interrupted by Pansy's barked greeting.

"Parkinson."

Hermione stood and moved to the center of the store in time to see Neville bow Pansy out the door. It was such a gentlemanly gesture that she blinked in shock.

Pansy's response, however, was less than ladylike. "Who taught you to be a Pureblood gentleman?"

"My gran." Neville smirked–that half-cocked smile that had found its place on his face after he'd beheaded Voldemort's experimental she-snake. Even Hermione sometimes swooned when he used that smile. It was so un-Neville and devil-may-care. He bowed again and… Hermione blinked. Was his voice deeper? "Have a lovely evening, Miss Parkinson."

Pansy huffed but brushed past him. As Hermione crossed the distance of the store to give Neville a side hug, she realized he was still staring out the door. His gaze was fixed entirely on Pansy's very bare back.

"Neville?" Hermione prompted.

"Where's Parkinson going dressed like that?" he asked.

"Date with Blaise."

"Zabini?" Neville's eyebrows climbed his forehead. "I thought he was dating that Daphne gal. The one with ties in France."

Hermione shrugged–from her little understanding of Pureblood politics it was perfectly normal and even expected for a man like Blaise to juggle a couple girls at a time. She was certain Pansy knew what she was doing. After all, she'd read every news article and tidbit ever published on the Zabini family in between customers. Hell, often in front of customers... But Neville's concern was sweet. Both she and Neville leaned out the door to watch Pansy sashaying over to the apparition point. One long, dark, perfectly curled tendril of hair dangled loose from the back of her updo and swayed back and forth with every step. Even Hermione found it mesmerising. When Pansy finally popped away, Neville squeezed Hermione's shoulder with his belated hug and pushed the door closed.

"So," Neville cleared his throat as the word seemed to stick. "Wards?"

"Oh yes! I had almost forgotten that's why you were here."

After weeks of working together, Hermione had decided it would be easier to just add Neville to the wards instead of having to leave her brewing or cooking or reading to let him in. The man was just as scatterbrained as he'd been when he was a boy, but now that trait manifested in his popping by at the oddest times to drop off a crate of dragon heartstrings or suggest Hermione try Peruvian bezoars instead of the "plain old Scottish stock". She thought it had something to do with the diet leading to more effective absorption in Peruvian goat bezoars…. Honestly, she'd been too shocked that it was Neville having that conversation with her that she'd sort of missed out on the details.

"Mione?" Neville prompted.

"Right. Wards."

Shaking her head to clear her mind, Hermione drew her wand. She made sure to get Neville's silent okay before pointing it at him, though. The war had made everyone a bit skittish and… proactively aggressive was about the best way she could phrase it. Goodness knew how many slicing hexes had been flung round the Burrow because of what George affectionately dubbed the battle twitch. Neville dipped his chin and she pressed her wand into the center of his chest.

Concentrating on the idea of copying Neville's magic signature, Hermione drew her wand away slowly, pulling a bright red light seemingly from out of Neville's flesh. It clung to the end of her wand before she flicked it off. Both of them watched as it floated, almost lazily, over to the door before it joined the wards with a shimmer of a thousand colors. The entire process took less than five seconds and Neville blinked as the wards melted back into invisibility.

"Blimey, Hermione, that was brilliant."

She grinned, more than a little proud of herself, and pressed a key into Neville's hand. "One good outcome of running for our lives. I can cast just about any ward you could imagine. Probably even blindfolded and with my tongue cut out."

He chuckled and led her away from the door. "Yeah, well, let's not test that theory. I like your tongue right where it is."

Hot blushes chased their way across both their faces and Neville ran a hand through his hair, mussing it.. "I didn't mean it like that."

Hermione nodded and fanned her face. Flicking her wand at the fireplace, she doused the flames a bit. "I know. I know."

"Not that you're not–"

Grabbing Neville's hand, Hermione cut him off. "Don't dig deeper, Neville." Then she tilted her head, considering, before winking at him. "Though on any other girl… give that one a try."

His audible gulp had them both chuckling and Hermione settled into a chair by the fire as Neville patted his coat pockets and mumbled about dropping off some crates before he disappeared down the stairs faster than a niffler after gold. The telltale sound of a cauldron crashing had Hermione rolling her eyes and summoning her tea service.

"Sorry," Neville shouted up the stairs.

"S'fine," Hermione yelled back with a smile.

Some things would never changed. Like Neville's inability to function properly any time he got near a cauldron and their sometimes awkward but never uncomfortable friendship. Compared to Severus' hot and cold act, Hermione found herself thankful for the constant that was Neville in her life. Even Pansy was comfortably familiar. Yes, they were friendly now… Well, as friendly as one could be with the person you paid half your bank balance to each week. But Pansy was the same sarcastic, self-absorbed, boy-crazy girl she'd been at Hogwarts. With a mean streak that Hermione could appreciate fully when it wasn't directed at her.

Wrapping her hands around her mug and inhaling deeply of the elixir that was a good, strong black tea, Hermione smiled to herself. Neville and Pansy were as comforting to her as her routines and schedules. They kept the crazy world from spinning completely out of control. Ron and Harry were much the same, though they weren't around as much anymore. But even before they had lives of their own, the duo had brought a certain amount of insanity and uncertainty to everything they did. Who else but Harry Potter would get attacked by a teacher in his first year at Hogwarts? And who else but Ronald Weasley would carry around a creepy, middle-aged murderer as a pet? Hermione sipped her tea. At least those two were constant in their inconsistencies.

Another crashing cauldron and muttered apology had Hermione setting her teacup down and halfway to her feet before Neville emerged from her basement lab with a smashed thumb and a black eye.

"Do I even want to know?" Hermione asked as she cast a couple healing charms. The bruises faded but didn't disappear entirely.

Collapsing into the purple chair that Hermione usually sat in, Neville shook his head and made up his own cup of tea. "Nothing's broken."

"Except you?"

He shrugged and grinned his boyish smile. "Except me."

Grinning back, Hermione curled her legs beneath her and plopped her chin on one hand. "So, what did you bring me this time?"

"I had a shipment of organics come early. Thought I'd drop them off a bit early to save me hauling a dozen extra crates in tomorrow morning."

"Ooh, my bezoars?" Hermione asked, all but rubbing her hands together with excitement. She was hoping the bezoars were the final ingredient in her trial tremor potion. And she was hoping Neville was right about the increased efficiency of Peruvian ones.

He nodded. "Yeah, and a few dragon bits and one very large, very ugly unicorn horn. My contact says he got it for a steal in a muggle market of all places. Some kid had picked it up and was playing King Arthur with it."

Hermione smiled, automatically picturing Calder running around with a giant unicorn horn, chasing pretend monsters away from fair maidens. Maybe Sassa would be his damsel until she was old enough to want to be a knight herself.

 _You are not their mother._ Severus' caustic words cames charging through her thoughts like a rampaging erumpent. Burying her frown behind a giant sip of tea, Hermione dropped her gaze to the rug. Severus was right. She wasn't their mother. She wasn't even an aunt or an anybody to them like she was to Teddy and James and Victoire. Hermione had no right in the world to imagine his kids playing make believe with unicorn horns or learning to control their magic with play wands. Not even her godson had inspired such daydreams from her.

Hermione scowled. Why wasn't she thinking of James chasing Teddy around with the unicorn horn? Or Victoire, who took after her mother in many ways, willing playing the damsel to their very boisterous knights? That would make more sense. She'd known her nieces and nephews longer than Calder and Sassa, been around them since birth. Shaking her head, Hermione huffed. Clearly Severus wasn't the only Snape who had gotten under her skin.

"Hermione?" Neville patted her hand, concern evident in his tone.

Hermione forced a smile. "Sorry."

"If you need a nicer unicorn horn, I'll get you one. I just figured the size–"

"Oh, it'll be perfect, I'm sure. I'm just going to grind it up anyway."

Furrowing his brow, Neville stared intently at her for several seconds too long before nodding and patting her hand again. "Well, let me know. I've got to go check on the greenhouses."

"Hmmm," Hermione stood as he did, giving Neville another warm hug before he trudged off toward the front door. "And I've got to catch a nap. See you tomorrow?"

He grinned and winked before letting himself out. "Course."

* * *

Several hours later, Hermione slipped on her thick wool coat and pulled on a thin but warm pair of gloves. They were perfect for harvesting ingredients in all kinds of inclement weather. After making sure she had everything else she needed–shears, antivenom in case she stumbled across the wrong kinds of plants, and a handful of vials and bottles to store ingredients in–she squeezed her eyes closed and focused on a nice little copse of trees just North of a clearing she liked to gather fluxweed at. With a squeeze and a _pop_ , she disapparated from her flat and into the center of a ring of towering birch trees.

This time next month she would be landing in mud up to her knees but even compared to that distasteful reality, Hermione couldn't find it in her to like the way winter seeped every ounce of life out of a forest. No nocturnal beasts snuffled about or hooted from hidden perches in the winter. Not one living being, sentient or not, dared to brave the special brand of cold that came just before spring. No one but her. Shivering and pulling her coat tighter around herself, Hermione slowly picked her way towards the gathering site. Snow squeaked beneath her boots and the silence of a dark, cold winter's night seeped in around her like a palpable, oppressive energy. Hermione resolved to collect her fluxweed as fast as possible before heading home for a nice cup of tea and her warm bed.

Automatically picking her way to the clearing, Hermione didn't pay much attention to where she was going until she saw it. She stopped dead in her tracks and gasped.

Burned. The entire clearing had been blackened by fire. The acrid scent stung her nostrils then and Hermione wondered how she had missed it before. It burned like magic and soot and a ghost of darkness in her lungs and she stepped off of the perfectly white snow into the bog of blackness. Pushing her hair back from her face, Hermione stared, wide-eyed, at the complete destruction in front of her.

This had not been a natural occurrence. It was too perfectly contained, too circular, and none of the trees or surrounding fauna had been touched. Just her clearing. Just the place where fluxweed had once grown. Melted snow had merged with the ashes to create some unnatural concoction that felt like mud, smelled like a wet dog that had slept in the fireplace, and would undoubtedly cling to and ruin her boots like muggle cement. Hermione didn't care about her boots or the terrible smell or anything, though. She only had one thought chasing itself through her mind. Who had done this?

And then another thought latched itself to that question's tail. And why?

With a crack of disapparation, Hermione changed scenes before she was fully aware of what she was doing. Now she was in a different forest, this one with larger, more widespread trees and less snow. She tempered the urge to run to the gathering site with the sort of caution that came with surviving a war. Instead, wand out, she slowly approached the gathering site in a wide arc, her senses attuned to any sight or sound of movement that would suggest she was not alone.

This time she smelled it before she saw it. Lingering only long enough to confirm that this site, too, had been destroyed, Hermione apparated away to another spot. One she hadn't been to in several months. Burned.

 _Pop!_ She was on a grassland. Destroyed.

 _Crack!_ She was on the edge of a lake and could see and smell the smoke over the small gathering site that had always been right behind that boulder.

Over and over and over again. Site after site after site. By the time Hermione started apparating blindly–heading to gathering sites she'd never personally been to but had heard of–her face was streaked with tears. Whether it was from the sting of smoke and soot making her eyes water or righteous fury, Hermione wasn't sure. She wiped at the tears furiously as she circled a spot that had once housed a fairy ring and some of the most potent moly flowers she'd ever come across. It was nothing but a perfect circle, charred flat.

Finally she spun in on herself and appeared in the Forbidden Forest. Hermione didn't come here often because it was Centaur lands and, though she and the centaurs had an understanding, it was incredibly insulting to take from Centaur lands without leaving something in exchange. And it was not often that a witch or wizard, not even Hermione, had something to give the Centaurs that they would consider valuable.

Throwing caution to the wind, Hermione took the most direct path to the gathering site at a dead run. Her heart was in her throat as she crunched across the snow much too loudly. Not here, she thought. Not here too. Hermione wasn't sure she could handle it if someone desecrated this place. It was too close to home. Too close to Hogwarts. And it held too many memories for her.

She almost collapsed in relief when she stepped into the clearing where full moon harvestables grew and saw nothing but perfect, unblemished snow. Here and there the dark green shoots of winter fluxweed peeked out from their cold blanket beneath the trees. Green and whole and unharmed. Hermione made a circuit around the site to assure herself that nothing had changed.

What looked like a tiny sprig of dittany caught her eye and Hermione bent over to inspect it. She was just brushing the snow away from the small plant when a pair of arms wrapped around her like steel bands. One mittened hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her scream, as the other dug into her hip and pulled her back against a long, hard torso. Her assailant dragged Hermione around a broad oak and pressed her, face-first, into the rough bark.

"What are you doing here?" he snarled.

She recognized that voice. Jerking against the man's grip, Hermione bit through the thick mitten holding her mouth and was rewarded with a growl and more pressure to keep her against the tree. The hand keeping her quiet did move, though, and Hermione took full advantage.

"Let me go, Severus," she demanded, her voice as quiet and furious as his had been.

He did. She spun around to find herself caged in by his arms as his dark eyes stared down at her and for once in her life, Hermione could read his expression perfectly. He was wary. For a very brief moment he looked as if he was considering prying into her mind and Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. If he dared she'd make sure he saw every pink-saturated birthday party her parents had ever thrown her before she tossed him out of her mind so hard he'd have a headache for a week.

Severus must have caught onto the meaning of her glare because the tension in his shoulders relaxed minutely. "What happened to Mister Snape?"

Really? Hermione pursed her lips and crossed her arms. "You do not want to have that conversation here," she said. Then she thought about it. "Do you attack everyone who stumbles upon you gathering fluxweed or am I special?"

"Apologies," he said quietly. "I... uh, haven't run into anyone in the forest since the war. You startled me."

"Good thing you don't just kill people when you're startled," Hermione snapped. Her heart was still in her throat and she was pretty sure she'd be having nightmares about Malfoy Manor after the stunt Severus just pulled. The Manor and those damned Snatchers.

He blanched. And redirected. "How did you plant the dittany here?"

Shock had her jerking back so quickly she banged her head against the tree. "Ow, damn!" She winced and rubbed at the spot. It was going to be a bump come morning. "I didn't. I've never seen dittany here before tonight."

One eyebrow arched on his forehead. "What about the other sites? Have you been planting fluxweed or midnight orchids or moly?"

Hermione shook her head. "No."

He deflated just a little. "You _have_ noticed the influx of harvestables though?"

"Of course. It's impossible to miss. I thought you might be behind it."

Withdrawing from her, Severus ran a hand through his hair, drawing it away from his face as he also shook his head. He stared at some imaginary point over her shoulder, lips barely moving with his reply.

"And you're the only one I could think of who is brilliant enough to pull it off."

She tucked that complement away to dissect later. Right now she had bigger things to worry about. "We'll have to solve that mystery later, Severus. Have you been to any other sites tonight?"

"No, why?"

"They've been burned. All of them. I must have apparated to twenty or twenty-five different gathering spots. All gone. Someone's destroying them."

Fury flashed like a hot wave across Severus' face. "What do you mean burned?"

"Look," Hermione said, and she opened her mind to him. Everything around her melted away as Severus fell into her gaze. His touch on her mind was subtle but sure and he moved from one memory to the next with such ease that if Hermione hadn't invited him in herself she was certain she wouldn't know he was there. Fortunately he stuck to the images she pushed forward for him. He rifled through the images from each site once, twice, then focused on the few she had lingered at. Knowing that he was searching for clues just as she had been, Hermione waited patiently for him to find everything he needed.

It was the distinct sound of several cracks of apparation that broke through their mental connection. Both of their bodies went rigid and Severus pulled out of Hermione's mind so fast and hard she had to bite her hand to keep from gasping out loud. He placed a steadying hand on her shoulder even as they both hunched closer to the shadow of the tree and began looking around.

When Hermione saw a man step into view just feet behind Severus, she reacted without thinking and tackled Severus into the shallow but shadowed snow well around the tree. Her wand was in her hand before they landed and Hermione silently cast every disillusionment, notice-me-not and silencing spell she could think of over the both of them as the man turned to face the field and the spot where they had just been standing. Severus' arms went around her, keeping her tight against him as he hid his very pale face in her curls. Both of their chests were heaving with adrenaline-fueled breaths that were deep but silent.

"Recognize them?" Severus whispered against her neck, his words less sound than distinct lip movements.

Hermione shivered and moved her head closer to his ear. "No. Shorter than you, broad chest. Salt and pepper hair. Wearing muggle clothes."

Severus nodded, his nose rubbing against her jumping pulse, and she held perfectly still as his hands inched up from her waist to her ribs. With caution and utmost care, he pressed her up off his chest until he could tilt his head back and get a visual of the man himself. Hermione peeked through her curtain of curls that was cascading over both their faces and saw the man drawing complex runes in the air with his wand.

"He's warding the site," she murmured.

Severus nodded and lowered her back to his chest. This time his voice was audible. "They're going to burn it."

"The perfect circles," Hermione gasped, realizing the significance of what she'd seen that night. "Containment wards to control the burn. There must be five or six of them to ward it all at once. Maybe more. And we can't apparate out."

Hermione felt Severus' body stiffen beneath her and she met his gaze. He appeared conflicted and she arched an eyebrow.

"I know what they're going to do," he said. "Old trick from the revels. You're not going to like it."

"Do not hold back on me," she whispered.

"Fiendfyre."

Well Cercei's tits and Merlin's balls baked in a bundt cake. Hermione bit back some of her more creative curses as the single word sent a spear of terror running straight down her spine. Crabbe's tortured screams as his own curse devoured him in the Room of Requirement echoed through her psyche and Hermione pressed her cheek against Severus' as her breathing became uneven. She could almost feel the heat again. Her skin sizzling and bubbling where the dark fire got just a little too close.

They were going to die. Hermione's heart started pounding erratically and she could feel the tight grip of a panic attack seizing her as the reality of their situation pounded into her like a freight train. A freight train with an _engorgio_ placed on it and muggle speed in its system. A freight train enchanted to behave like a bludger with only one mission: destroy. Hermione whimpered and bit her tongue. Her eyes glazed over and all she could see was the dark dragon of fire chasing her. Opening its jaws in anticipation of devouring her with it's flaming maw.

"Snap out of it," Severus growled in her ear.

"B-but, who will take Calder and Sassa?" she asked. Not for one second considering why that was the first concern she had.

"I will," he replied, his arms slipping around her. One to cup her head and one to hold her waist against his. "We're not going to die, Hermione."

She couldn't believe that. Not when the wards locking them into this space were shimmering only feet in front of her face. Not when she'd been so busy checking the two dozen other sites that she hadn't even bothered to look for bodies. Maybe every potions master and herbologist in Britain had died tonight. Burned to a crisp along with the flora and fauna they were trying to harvest. Just like she and Severus were going t–

Severus shook her. Just a little. But with his whole body. When she didn't respond, he gripped her curls in his fist and yanked her head back. Hard. Shocked by the pain, Hermione met his black gaze with the knowledge that her pupils were blown wide enough to make her eyes match his. She gaped at him, caught in that half-cognizant place between panic and understanding as he curled his lip into a familiar sneer.

"We are not going to die." Every word was carefully enunciated. Punctuated with a puff of his warm breath upon her face.

"But… fiendfyre," she whispered, barely daring to say the word. It was impossible to escape. And she'd already done the impossible once. By sheer luck and on the shirttails of Founders magic and Harry's destiny. There was no way she could escape it twice.

"Do you trust me?" Severus drawled.

She shouldn't. He'd hurt her. But there was no denying the fact that Severus Snape was one of the few people Hermione had always trusted. It was just a feeling in her gut that she'd clung to even after he killed Dumbledore. Unable to nod with his hand holding her hair so tightly, Hermione settled for pushing her answer into his mind. _Yes._

"Take a deep breath and hold it," he commanded.

" _Fiendfyre!_ " What sounded like a dozen voices chanted the curse together and a wave of fierce, unquenchable heat bellowed around them.

Hermione only remembered to breathe because Severus was following his own advice. As she sucked in as much air as her lungs could hold, he buried her face in his chest and the familiar twist and pinch of apparation squeezed over her. Everything burned. Bright, red heat flashed across her eyelids. And then there was intense pressure and complete darkness. So much pressure. Hermione screamed inside of her mind as her whole body felt like it was being crushed beneath the weight of the world. Then another twist, a muffled _crack_ and Severus was gasping for air, rolling her off his chest even while he patted down every inch of her to make sure she was breathing and whole and there.

To be honest, she was doing a fair amount of groping and patting and reassuring herself that he was fine as well. They were filthy. As Severus loomed above her, Hermione brushed dirt and grime and twigs off his face and out of his hair. In turn he brushed the debris from her own skin and hair. Her knuckles felt blistered and he had a bright red patch of raw hypodermis on his forehead but Hermione was relieved to find that they were, more or less, still perfectly whole.

"What did you do?" Hermione asked when she finally found her voice and retrieved it from somewhere down by her right kneecap.

A single, harsh laugh escaped his lips and he tilted his mouth in a wry grimace of sorts. "You're going to want firewhiskey before I answer that question."

She nodded, her mind foggy with shock and relief. Alcohol sounded like a very good plan. "Your place, or mine?"

* * *

 ** _Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Stuff is heating up and we've got alcohol fueled discussions coming up next. Whose flat do you think they'll wind up at?_**

 ** _Thanks so much to everyone who is reading, following, favoriting and reviewing this story. You all are my inspiration. And my deepest appreciate goes to everyone for the well wishes with my medicine issues. I have started a new antidepressant and haven't been dizzy or nauseous in two whole days. So excited to be able to sit upright and go to work next week. Can you believe I've been laying on the couch for two whole weeks? So boring!_**

 ** _Blessings!_**


	14. 14) March 21, 2000, Part 1

**.**

 **Chapter 14**

 **.**

 _ **March 21, 2000**_

The first thing they did when they got to Severus' flat was withdraw their memories and floo the vials of evidence over to the Auror's office. The look of shock on Potter's face when Severus' head appeared in the fireplace demanding he start an investigation was sheer perfection. Horror, confusion and obstinance all rolled into one imperfect sneer. Potter had assured them the Aurors would look into the incident and warned them they'd probably get a visit from an Auror sometime over the next couple days. As if they couldn't have figured that out on their own.

The second thing they did was get the firewhiskey down from its well-warded hiding place above the fridge and pour themselves generous mugs full of the stuff. Hermione had taken a seat on the couch while Severus settled himself against the stone wall beside the fireplace, letting it warm him through as he stretched his legs out across the living room.

A half hour later, fortified by alcohol and surrounded by a dozen surreptitiously cast shielding charms, Severus finally told Hermione how they'd escaped. Her reaction was not quite what he'd expected.

"You had better be joking, Severus Snape," she said, pointing an accusing finger at him even as she evacuated her spot on the couch.

Severus watched the witch pacing back and forth across his living room with the sort of wariness that used to be reserved for Albus and Albus alone. It wasn't often that people surprised him but here was Hermione, once again surprising him. He'd expected screaming. Outrage. Perhaps a few smashed glasses, a demand to never see her again and a dramatic exit. From what he recalled of Hermione's school years, she had a hot temper and some very creative spins on age old spells. So he was definitely prepared for the worst of that to come out.

But this witch… he swallowed nervously as Hermione stopped in the middle of the floor, turned to look at him with one hand on her hip and the other holding tight to her own mug of firewhiskey, shook her head then resumed pacing. This witch was calm. Deadly calm. Hermione was practically vibrating with the amount of energy she was exerting to keep from exploding at him. That level of control was something Severus had only ever witnessed in himself and seeing it on her was nerve-wracking to say the least.

The thought that she was stunning in her quiet fury drifted through his mind and he shoved it back, hard, and took a sip of whiskey.

"Would you have preferred to burn to death?" he asked as casually as he could manage.

She glared at him and he couldn't be sure if the fire in her eyes was reflection or manifestation. "Of course not."

"Then I don't see what the problem is."

"You apparated us _Into The Ground_ ," she snarled, carefully drawing out the last three words. She wanted to make sure he knew what she was upset about. "You didn't know what could have happened. We could have died."

"We were already dead," he reasoned. "The worst that could have happened is we'd have been crushed instead of barbequed."

With a huff, Hermione flopped onto his couch. It was a miracle the firewhiskey didn't spill. "You should have at least warned me."

Severus rolled his eyes. He knew exactly what would have happened if he'd told her he was planning on apparating into the floor of the Forbidden Forest.

"Yes," he drawled, sarcasm dripping into his voice like venom. "Because we had so much time to hold a summit on the pros and cons of apparating into the ground. How many seconds do you think it would have taken the fiendfyre to render us into ash?"

He glared at her and Hermione held his gaze in a silent standoff. He knew the instant she let go of her wrath by the way her pupils dilated, but she made him wait an extra minute before her body relaxed in the universal slump that meant "I give in". She slipped off his couch and onto the ground, her legs parallel to his as she stared into the fire and drained her mug in one giant gulp. Severus couldn't help but arch an eyebrow at that. Who knew Hermione could drink like a pro?

Even as she silently summoned the bottle from where he'd left it on the mantle, Hermione bopped his leg with her foot. "Thank you for saving us."

"You're welcome," he replied.

Hermione dipped her chin and tilted her lips up. Severus managed to return her small smile as they made nice. He held his glass out for a refill. Once she topped him off, he leaned back against the stone and closed his eyes.

They were silent for a bit, each caught up in their thoughts. Severus was hoping the Aurors would stumble across the arseholes who were desecrating nature and put an end to the investigation before it even began. Unfortunately, he knew that was just about as likely as the Weasley's not procreating. Whoever was burning the sites was hours ahead of the MLE. On top of that, he doubted there was any evidence for the Aurors to trace. Fiendfyre was effective like that. Unless they could find a match for the man he and Hermione had seen, the Aurors were likely at a dead end. Severus growled at that though. The bastards deserved to rot in Azkaban for all the damage they'd done.

"How did you even know to try it?" Hermione asked, interrupting his ire.

Clearly she was still caught up on his apparation trick. Arching one eyebrow, Severus asked the obvious. "Do you ward your floors?"

Her mouth popped open into a pretty little O. Surprise turned to bemusement and she shook her head. "No."

He smirked. "No one ever does. That's why apparating down worked."

"Are your floors warded?"

"My liquor stash is warded, do you think I would forget my floors?"

She grinned at him and he found himself responding with his own smile, broader and less tentative. "I guess I'll be expanding my wards tomorrow," she said.

"Hmmm," he agreed.

It was oddly intimate, sitting on the floor facing one another with the fire crackling behind him. But it wasn't uncomfortable. That thought alone may have been terrifying if Severus hadn't just faced down fiendfyre and almost gotten them crushed by the weight of the earth. Literally. But for once he was content with the tenuous comradery that had been forged between them. He savored the quiet sounds of her breathing and the press of her leg against his and the warm pulse of whiskey in his gut.

"I'm sorry about that day in the park."

The words had been said so quietly, Severus wasn't sure Hermione meant to speak them out loud. He opened his eyes halfway and watched her. Staring at the ground, she picked at a loose strand in the rug and appeared every bit as hesitant as her words suggested she was.

"I should be the one apologizing," he said. Just as quietly. "I was… angry. And I took it out on you."

"You had every right to be angry. I can't even imagine what you must have felt when you realized Sassa was gone." Hermione lowered her head further and a curtain of hair fell over her face, hiding it from his view. Her next words were tentative. " _I_ was worried for her and I'm not anybody to your kids."

Severus had suffered slicing hexes that didn't cut as deep as those words did. _You are not their mother._ Typical Severus, feeling hurt and lashing out at anybody and everybody who dared try to help. It was worse because Hermione hadn't even known anything was wrong. The last time she'd seen him he'd had to pry himself away from her before he took her against the door like a randy sixth year. Then he was all but ripping her head off for being excited about Sassa's magic. He wouldn't blame her if she thought he was bipolar or something.

Patting Hermione's shin, he waited until she looked up at him and lowered his occlumency shields entirely. Hermione deserved the truth. And she deserved to know it _was_ the truth. She gasped, recognizing his openness, and leaned ever so slightly towards him.

"I wasn't angry because Sassa was gone," he said quietly. The urge to lower his gaze or slam his shields back up was strong but he fought through it. "Well, I was, but that's not why I lashed out at you."

"Severus," she whispered. "You don't have to."

He swallowed. "I do. You feel it, don't you? This thing between us?"

"Yes."

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. That one word was filled with yearning and sadness and wariness all at the same time. Slowly, Severus stood and crossed the distance to the couch. He drew Hermione up onto the cushion next to him, his thumb stroking the pulse point in her wrist before he pulled away and put as much distance between them as the couch would allow. She curled her legs beneath her, looking soft and vulnerable as she patiently waited for him to say more.

"I was angry because I found out that our attraction–this thing between us–is probably magically compelled. I was trying to push you away." Severus watched her reaction carefully as he said the words, wanting to make sure she understood what he was saying.

"You're not talking about the _imperius_ are you?" Hermione furrowed her brow.

"No."

He could almost hear her thinking it through. Hermione's gaze swept across the room, lingering on the bookshelf and the photos of the kids before returning to him. She nodded, as if deciding something, and folded her hands in her lap.

"Magical adoptions are performed with oath magic, aren't they?" she asked.

"Yes." He almost added more but what was he supposed to say? I swore to my children that I would find them a mother and apparently you're it. Or, I can't fall in love with you because I would never be sure it's real and not just a byproduct of the oath bond. Even in his own mind it sounded stupid.

Fortunately Hermione was an intelligent witch. She didn't need him to walk her through it; she did it for herself, thinking out loud as she put what he had said and what he hadn't together. "I'm woefully underread on the subject of oath bonds but I'm assuming the usual adoption oaths include both parents. And since you're not married and their mother is gone or… something. You must have adapted the oath to suit your situation?"

At his nod of agreement, Hermione smiled grimly. She seemed to sink further into her corner of the couch even as she met his gaze dead on. "You believe the oath has created a compulsion between us. To fulfill the requirements for a mother."

It was a statement but Severus responded anyway. "Yes."

Nothing could have prepared him for the look of devastation that crossed Hermione's face. In all his time spent brooding about his sucky lot in life, it hadn't occurred to him that Hermione would be just as upset as he was. Severus could have slapped himself for not realizing it. Then again, everything with Hermione was new territory. How could he have anticipated that she felt the same when he'd never had a relationship where his feelings were reciprocated?

"I'm sorry." The words were inadequate but there was nothing else he could think to say.

Hermione turned her face away, staring into the fire so as not to have to look at him. Her trembling jaw and the single tear that slipped down her cheek were his undoing and, before he even knew what he was doing, Severus bridged the space between them and brushed her tear away. That action only served to shatter her control and Hermione bit her lip as a sob escaped her.

"It's not fair," she whispered.

Wrapping his arms around her, Severus pulled her against his chest. He set his chin atop her curls and closed his eyes. Her visible anguish was a mirror of his own and he hated that the damned oath had caused her that kind of pain.

"I'm sorry you got dragged into this," he said.

"No." Hermione planted a hand on his chest, pushing away from him. He let her go willingly, surprised when she merely used the distance to look him dead in the eyes. Her face was splotched red from crying but she had a look of fierce determination on under the tears. "It's not fair to _you_ , Severus. All your life you've been bound by one thing or another. Dumbledore, Voldemort, Lily… Even your children are the result of a magical oath. It's not fair that you can't even have this–" She pressed her lips to his, closing her eyes for half a second before she withdrew. It was far too brief, far too quick, for him to have memorized the feel of her and Severus had to fight not to pull her back down and kiss her until they both forgot what they were talking about. Resist he did, though, and Hermione continued. "–without knowing it's real. You deserve everything. Love, joy, family, everything. And you deserve to never have to wonder about it."

She curled herself back onto his chest and Severus held her tightly. No one had ever been so upset on his behalf before. Especially not after he'd pushed them away. And no one had understood, not even Lucius, why he couldn't allow himself to be bound by magic again. But here was a woman who liked him, who he could see himself having a future with, acknowledging that he deserved to live life outside of binding magic. Even if it meant that life was without her.

He closed his eyes and leaned back into the corner of the couch, rearranging their bodies until his legs were stretched out across the cushions and Hermione was pressed fully against his side, her cheek resting above his heart. When this night was over, they would have to let go of one another. He knew that. Because if he held onto her longer than this night, he would never let her go. And he would always wonder if it was real or not. And at some point that wondering would turn into resentment and ruin them. So for now, he held Hermione and memorized the feel of her and let himself dream of a life where this was real and not some magic compulsion. And tomorrow he'd let her go.

"I think I could have loved you," Hermione whispered against his neck. "In time. I think we would have had something amazing. You and me, Calder and Sassa."

Pressing a ghost of a kiss against her curls, Severus cried his own silent tears as she continued to soak his shirt with hers. "I could have loved you, too."

They settled into silence, their breathing evening out as the adrenaline of the evening faded and left them with nothing except exhaustion and the remnants of what could have been. The fire was nothing but embers and Severus was half asleep when Hermione mumbled something into his shirt.

"Hmmm?" he asked, too tired to form an actual word.

"I should have gone into arithmancy," she murmured.

"Why?" he asked, groping around the back of the couch until he found the blanket that had always lived there. He pulled it over them both and buried his nose in her curls.

"So we could see if this is real or not," she mumbled.

"S'not too late to get a second mastery," he reminded her, too tired to comprehend the meaning of their conversation.

"Mmmm," she sighed and snuggled further against him. "Maybe t'morrow."

"Tomorrow," he agreed.

* * *

Severus was warm. Actually, he was more than warm, he was boiling. It felt like he had a personal furnace laying on his chest. Pawing the blanket off and spelling the nearest window opened, he breathed a sigh of relief as the cool night air hit his face. That was better.

Tilting his body to the side, he pressed the furnace against the back of the couch and wrapped himself around her warmth. It was still too dark to be morning. And he was too comfy to move. He couldn't remember sleeping this well in years. No, more than years, he'd never slept this well. The warm furnace snuggled deeper into his chest and he caught a whiff of soil and spice and vanilla before sleep dulled his senses. Too comfy indeed.

* * *

Severus startled awake. Something was wrong. He didn't move a single muscle, keeping his eyes closed and his arms wrapped around the soft body that was pressed against every inch of him as he tried to figure out just what was causing his feeling of wrongness. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he realized, with a bit of trepidation, that someone was staring at him.

Wrapping himself further around the woman to protect her from any spells that might come their way, Severus curled his lip and pulled out his most authoritative voice. The one that used to make Longbottom wet his pants in Potions class.

"Leave or I will make you wish you had."

A familiar chuckle was the intruder's response. "And miss out on your awkward morning after conversation? I think not."

"Lucius," Severus growled, carefully clutching the witch–who he now realized was a soundly sleeping Hermione–to his chest as he turned over onto his back. She followed willingly, clinging to his heat and murmuring sleepily as she buried her face deeper into the hollow between his shoulder and neck. "What are you doing here?"

Lucius, sitting in the leather armchair with a self-satisfied smirk on his face, arched a perfect eyebrow at Severus. "Watching you two cuddle."

"Pervert."

"You're lucky your children aren't as observant as I am this early in the morning."

"Shit." Severus jolted upright, startling Hermione who jumped away from him so fast he might have been a horcrux. "Where are they?"

"Severus?" Hermione's voice was drugged with sleep and she blinked at him. "Everything okay?"

"Good morning, Miss Granger," Lucius drawled charmingly. "Did you sleep well?"

If he himself hadn't been mortified by the position they'd been discovered in, Severus may have found the way Hermione's eyes widened at the sound of Lucius' voice comical. Unfortunately, he was just as shocked by the abrupt wake up call as she was. So he kept his humor to himself and kindly brushed her rampaging curls behind her ears. His assistance did nothing to improve her tousled state.

"Lucius brought the children home." It was a blessing that Severus' voice didn't crack when he said it. It sounded like far too intimate statement for who they were to one another.

"Oh." Hermione looked dumbfounded for a moment, her eyes half-glazed over as she stared at Severus. He watched, enthralled, as her brain caught up to the conversation and confusion melted into a congenial expression. Turning to face the smirking Lucius, Hermione rolled her shoulders as if preparing for battle.

When she spoke, she managed to sound as polished as a pureblood at a ball despite her dishevelled appearance. "It's nice to see you, Mister Malfoy. I trust your evening with Calder and Sassa went well?"

Lucius smiled like the cat who cornered the canary and he snagged Hermione's hand to brush a kiss over her palm. "Nowhere near as lovely as yours, I'm sure."

Severus coughed, choking on the insinuation. But Hermione rolled with it, a dark scowl marring her face as she plucked her hand from Lucius' and crossed her arms.

"If you consider almost getting burned to death and nearly suffocating beneath the weight of who knows how much earth–" Oh good, she was still not over that. "–lovely, then yes. Your evening probably didn't come anywhere close to ours."

"Severus?" Lucius' smile dropped and he narrowed his eyes.

Taking a leaf from Hermione's book, Severus met Lucius' gaze and muttered, " _Ostendimens._ "

He pushed his memories from the previous night into Lucius' mind, making sure to include the face of the attacker they had seen and the runes he was drawing. Severus stopped the memory flow after he had successfully apparated them away from danger but before he had groped every part of Hermione's person to make sure he hadn't splinched her, or worse. He certainly did not need Lucius seeing _that_. If he thought them waking up together, fully clothed on the couch was scandalous, their mutual exploration of the other's person would certainly give the blond the wrong idea.

"Salazar's beard," Lucius said, shaking himself to clear the after effects of the spell.

"You don't recognize him?" Severus asked.

Lucius shook his head. "I would tell you if I did. What the hell were they doing?"

Hermione met Severus' gaze and he dipped his chin. She had seen more of the damage; she would explain it better.

She licked her lips and nodded. "They destroyed every harvesting spot I went to. At least twenty, probably more. Everywhere a person would go to collect full moon harvestables is gone."

"And the increased harvestables?" Lucius asked.

"Gone," Severus said. "All of it. Fiendfyre."

"Cersei's tits," Lucius cursed.

"And we still don't know who was behind that," Hermione added. "Not that it matters anymore. It will take decades for those areas to recover. And who knows if they'll ever have the same–Oh my god!"

"What?" Severus and Lucius asked at the same time.

Hermione jumped up from the couch and started pacing, her hands on top of her head as she muttered to herself. Every now and again she would shake her head or wave a hand in the air, but she seemed oblivious to her audience of wizards. Severus strained to hear what she was saying but caught only snippets.

"That would explain why… and then they'll control–but who could have those resources? No. _No!_ It couldn't be him. But… And why would he want–"

Lucius tried to penetrate her muttering. "Hermione, dear, do you mind sharing with the class?"

"It's no use," Severus said. "We just have to wait her epiphany out."

He settled back into the chair, fully prepared to do just that as Lucius looked on with a somewhat gobsmacked look on his face. It was times like these, Severus thought, that made a man wish they had a camera around. If he could just capture that open-mouthed, unfocused-eyed look on Lucius' face, he'd actually send out Christmas cards this year. Draco would find it hilarious.

"Miss Her-mine-Y?" Severus recognized his son's bleary morning voice.

Stopping so fast she almost tripped over herself, Hermione smiled down at Calder. "Good morning, Calder. Did you have fun with your Uncle Lucius last night?"

With one hand wrapped around an old, battered lion toy and the other clinging to his plaid baby blanket, Calder nodded. "Up?"

Hermione scooped him up as easily as if she'd been picking up kids all her life and Severus thought his expression might just match Lucius' as she resumed her pacing. As Calder nestled into her shoulder, she whispered a soft _muffliato_ over him and turned to face Severus and Lucius.

"Supply and demand," she said.

"Excuse me?" Severus asked but Lucius got a very Slytherin look on his face and muttered, "Of course."

"When you buy strawberries in the summer, they cost like, two pounds per kilo, right?" Hermione explained. "But if you want fresh strawberries in the winter, you're going to pay out the nostril for them because only a handful of greenhouses grow them. Supply and demand."

Her point smacked into Severus like a bludger. "Someone's trying to corner the market on fluxweed."

"And dittany and midnight orchids and moly flower… and whatever other harvestables typically grow in those fields," Hermione agreed.

"It's genius," Lucius drawled.

"It's insanity," Severus corrected. "Whoever is doing this torched Centaur territory."

"That's why I can't believe it," Hermione muttered, running her hands through her hair.

"Believe what?" Severus asked.

Lucius caught on a lot quicker. "She knows who did it, don't you?"

Hermione slumped back onto the couch, Calder fast asleep against her shoulder as she nodded. She looked absolutely defeated and Severus had to stop himself from pulling her back against his chest. It wouldn't do either of them any favors.

"I suspect," Hermione corrected. "But I really hope I'm wrong. I just... can't see him doing something like this."

"Who?" Severus asked.

"The only person in Britain who has enough fluxweed and dittany on hand to supply every apothecary for years," Hermione said. Her gaze sought Severus' out, her eyes moist with unshed tears. "Neville Longbottom."

It was a damned good thing Hermione had placed the _muffliato_ over his son because Severus' response was loud and rude. And it was nowhere near as bad as the curse that escaped Lucius' lips.

Hermione pursed her lips in a way that reminded Severus of Minerva and nodded. "My thoughts, exactly."

"We need to confront him," Lucius said.

"I know," Hermione agreed. "But I need a shower and about three gallons of tea before we do it."

Standing, Hermione passed Calder to Severus. As she withdrew, she stroked Calder's hair and bopped his nose gently before meeting Severus' gaze.

"Sorry," she murmured. "I know you don't want me to– with them."

He caught her hand as she withdrew and shook his head. "Just because we can't… I mean they might like… shite. What I'm trying to say is my kids like you. And it's okay for you to like them, too. Just because we can't pursue anything doesn't mean you can't be in their lives."

Her lip trembled and she murmured a quiet, "thank you," before standing. Raising her voice to include Lucius, Hermione nodded and said, "Why don't you meet me at the apothecary in two hours? We can confront Neville then."

Severus nodded but Lucius frowned. "Shouldn't we call the Aurors?" the blond asked.

"No," Hermione said. "Not yet. I need to know before I get Harry involved. He won't be able to separate out his feelings."

"And you can?" Lucius inquired.

Tilting her chin up, Hermione looked down her nose at Lucius. "Of course. Would you mind escorting me to the front of the store, Mister Malfoy? I think a walk would help clear my mind."

"It would be my pleasure. And please, my dear, call me Lucius."

"Hermione, then. Thank you."

Severus hid his smile behind Calder's head as Lucius was caught under her spell just like that. Standing, he _accio'd_ Hermione's coat and helped her into it, whispering spells that tamed her hair a little more so it wouldn't look like she was walking home after a night with a man. Severus swallowed hard at that image. It was exactly what she was doing but it was also so much more innocent.

Smiling gallantly, Lucius offered Hermione his arm and escorted her to the staircase, all the while talking about some mundane something or other that had Hermione giggling. Calder stirred against Severus' chest and he nosed his son's hair.

"You awake yet?" he asked.

"U'fortunally," Calder said in his best imitation of Severus' voice.

Severus laughed, tickling Calder's sides as he stood up. "Me too, Cal. Why don't we go wake your sister up and see if she wants some chocolate pancakes for breakfast."

It never got old how fast his kids could wake up when they heard the words "chocolate pancakes". Calder squirmed out of Severus' hold and darted down the hallway, yelling for his sister the entire time. Laughing, Severus trailed in his wake.

"Sassa wake up! Wake up, we gonna have chocklat pancakes! Sassa!"

* * *

 ** _Thank you so much for reading. I hope you're still enjoying this story. I know things look pretty bleak for our couple but the kids are still cute and I did mark this as a romance so..._**

 ** _Anyways. As always, thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed and favorited this story. You guys rock my world. We're nearing the last leg of it (probably 6-ish chapters left, depending on edits) and I can't wait to get all of it out to you. That said, my quarter finals are coming up in two weeks so I'm not sure if I'll have enough time to edit and post at my usual pace until those are over. I'm hoping I can successfully juggle everything but as a notorious procrastinator... well, I have a lot to do before the end of classes._**

 ** _Blessings and Chocolate Pancakes for you all._**


	15. 15) March 21, 2000, Part 2

**.**

 **Chapter 15**

 **.**

 _ **March 21, 2000, Part 2**_

Hermione stopped at the door of the bookstore and cast a wandless _silencio_. At Lucius' arched brow, she offered him a lopsided smile and withdrew her arm from his.

"I've heard tell you have some talent in Arithmancy, Lucius," she said.

His eyes flashed with surprise. "Yes," he drawled.

If she hadn't just had the night she had had, Hermione might have laughed out loud at his cautious tone. Would they ever live in a world where Slytherins didn't automatically assume the worst of every person who started a conversation with them? Instead of laughing, she ran her hand through her hair–how the hell had Lucius gotten it to behave so well?–and sighed.

"I'm not looking to use and abuse your talents," she said. "I merely want to know if you could help me with a formula."

Seeming intrigued, he reinforced her _silencio_ as the sound of tiny feet thundering across the flat upstairs made its way down to them. Lucius bent his head closer to hers.

"What kind of formula?"

Hesitating, Hermione worried her bottom lip between her teeth and narrowed her eyes. How much would Severus have told this man? Were they really as close as she thought they were? As she contemplated whether discussing the oath magic that was potentially causing a compulsion between herself and Severus would be a breach of trust or not, Lucius looked on with an enigmatic expression. Finally, as her silence stretched from seconds into minutes, the blond rolled his eyes and lifted a hand to pluck her lip from between her teeth.

"Severus is a fool," he drawled. "To let such a pretty thing as yourself get away all because of bond magic."

Well, that answered her question. Pulling away from Lucius' touch, Hermione ignored the humor that graced his features and set her mouth in a firm line. "He's not a fool. He's cautious. And with good reason."

"You agree with him?" The question was glazed in surprise.

Sighing–again–Hermione leaned against the doorframe. She turned her gaze away from Lucius' penetrating stare and watched the light snow falling beyond the bookshop's frost-kissed windows. She didn't want to. When she'd told Severus she thought she could have loved him, what she hadn't said was that she was halfway there. But it was that fact alone that made her believe they might be under some kind of compulsion magic. Falling for Ron had taken the better part of a decade and hundreds of ups-and-downs. It was falling out of love with him that been swift and sharp like the strike of a match. Surely she couldn't be having such strong feelings for Severus after only a couple months re-acquaintance? No. She shook her head. Not without some kind of catalyst. Like a bloody oath bond.

"I care too much to let him be bound again," she said finally.

Lucius flipped his hair over his shoulder and huffed. "Bloody noble Gryffindors."

As she turned her head to look at him, Hermione was surprised to see Lucius staring at her fondly. She shook her head at the fact that she was standing next to a man who three years ago wouldn't have hesitated to kill her on the spot, and he was smiling at her. How the world had changed.

"We can't all be underhanded snakes, you know," Hermione teased back.

"Small blessings. Draco and his friends would have eaten you alive had you been sorted into the snake pit."

Hermione snorted. "Don't be so sure. I once kept a reporter in a jar for two weeks. And in third year I hit your prat of a son in the nose. They should be rather thankful I _wasn't_ sorted into Slytherin."

Chuckling along with her, Lucius leaned against the other side of the doorframe, mimicking Hermione's position. "What if I told you the bond only enhances what was already there?"

Hermione arched her eyebrow in her best imitation of Severus. "I think we both know it doesn't matter whether we would have wound up here on our own or not. What matters is that Severus has hardly lived a day in his life not being bound to someone or something. If he's not willing to explore our relationship with an oath bond in place, I will respect that."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "He could resist you forever."

"I know."

"Why arithmancy then?"

Hermione smirked and ripped the locking spells on the door down with a flick of her wand. "Because if there's even a chance that this is real, I am going to find it."

Catching onto her intent, and looking mildly impressed as she'd hoped he would, Lucius pushed the door open and dropped his chin in a silent farewell. "I'll see what I can dig up for you," he promised. "Even if I think you're both being stubborn fools."

"Thank you. I'll see you in two hours?"

Lucius shook his head. "I'm going to take a stroll down memory lane and see if there aren't any rumors flying around the old circles."

"Hmmm," Hermione pursed her lips. She didn't doubt Lucius' old social circles included people who still believed she deserved to be stripped of her magic just because her parents had been muggles. And she didn't doubt for a second that he would pretend to believe the same if it would get him the information he wanted. It was a dangerous game to be playing. "Be careful," she said. And she meant it.

"Always," Lucius promised with a wink.

Tugging her coat more tightly around herself, Hermione stepped out into the snow. As the door shut behind her, bells tinkling, she closed her eyes and buried her hurt and wistfulness in that dark part of her mind that she liked to think of as her very own Room of Hidden Things. Clinging to the fact that Severus was going to let her be a part of Calder and Sassa's lives–which was more than she had hoped for after their discussion last night–Hermione set off down the road to the turn that would take her home.

* * *

Hermione and Severus apparated to a hill she knew of on the edge of Neville's property. The vast grounds of the Longbottom estates were laid out before them, the towering grey mansion set at the top of a long sloping lawn filled with merry rows of greenhouses interspersed with well-cultivated and luxurious gardens of every kind. A handful of grey outbuildings dotted the property like saplings sprouted around a mother tree. Assuming, of course, the tree were made of stone and was roughly the size of the Palace of the Parliament in Bucharest. The last time Hermione had visited Neville's home, she'd counted thirty-four greenhouses. With a stone in her belly, she realized that there were far more of the glass enclosures then there had been before. Neville, it appeared, had been busy.

"How are we going to get through the wards?" Severus asked after several minutes of stunned silence. Hermione wondered if he was glad Lucius hadn't come. The elder Malfoy's man-pride may have been a little injured if he'd seen the sheer size of the Longbottom Estates. She'd been to Malfoy Manor. Neville's home made those grounds look like a chihuahua sitting next to Hagrid's cerberus Fluffy.

"We're already through the wards," she said.

"Damn. I was hoping we'd have time to check out the greenhouses before confronting him."

"We do."

Giving her the same look he used for his most dunderheaded students, Severus took a deep breath like he was about to launch into a lecture on the properties of wards and the inherent problems with breaching them. Hermione figured she'd save them the time and pressed a finger to his lips to cut him off.

"I'm keyed to the wards."

"That may be but I'm not," Severus corrected her. "The alarms must be going off."

Sighing, Hermione pressed her lips together and glared at the irritating man. "I'm sorry, I meant I _keyed_ the wards."

The flabbergasted look on his face was worth every galleon Hermione spent on the potions shop that had put her on the trajectory that brought Severus back into her life. Ward Masters were as rare as Opaleye dragons and, while Hermione wasn't a master by any stretch of the imagination, the fact that she dabbled in the art to the point of successfully warding an estate as large as the Longbottom one was something that she knew was impressive. Smiling–perhaps a little too smugly–Hermione tossed her hair over her shoulder and set off down the hill towards the nearest row of greenhouses.

She stopped halfway down and glanced over her shoulder. "Coming? The wards might not alert him but the man does have eyes, you know."

If she could summon a patronus with the image of Severus all but tripping over himself to follow her down the hillside, Hermione figured it would be the brightest one she'd ever created.

It took them ten long minutes in silence to make it to the first row of greenhouses. As Severus took over the lead and began weaving a pattern that only he knew the method to between the dozens of long, glass buildings, Hermione followed with a sigh. Now that they were here, she was wondering if she shouldn't have _flooed_ Harry and let him handle it. Just the thought that Neville–sweet, clumsy, loyal Neville–could be behind the disaster of the night before made her heart ache. Every part of her wanted it to be false.

But she was Hermione Granger. And unlike Harry, who was known to follow his heart, or Ron, who followed his impulses, she had always relied on logic. So even though her heart and gut said that Neville couldn't possibly have played a part in the fluxweed ecocide, every logical clue she had pointed to him being a suspect.

And she had to know for sure before she brought Harry in. Otherwise–

"Here."

Severus' voice and his light touch on her arm interrupted Hermione's thoughts and she drew next to him as he peeked through the humidity-fogged glass of what appeared to be a brand new greenhouse. Even with their vision obscured, Hermione could see the distinctive sprouts of hundreds upon hundreds of fluxweed plants laid out in rows on steel tables that spanned the entire middle of the greenhouse. Along the edges, more mature plants lined neat beds of dark soil.

"Merlin," she whispered, as she took it all in. "I've never seen this much fluxweed in my life."

Severus nodded and gestured to the long row of greenhouses they'd already passed. "That's not all. Look," he muttered an incantation and a transparent blueprint of the estate hovered between them. Every greenhouse they had passed was marked neatly with a number and one of the shorthand marks potioneers and herbologists used to quickly differentiate between plants and ingredients. It was a neat bit of charm mapping and Hermione tilted her head as she saw the symbol for fluxweed–a five-pointed leaf perched atop a crooked stem–on at least nine other greenhouses. Also in great supply were the dittany, Moly flower and midnight orchid marks.

"How much of this is new?" Severus asked.

Tracing a gold pattern directly onto the map, Hermione marked out a chunk of greenhouses closest to the mansion. "Everything outside of that area is new. Outbuildings and gardens included."

Arching one dark eyebrow, Severus wiped the blueprint out of the air with his hand. "Your friend has been very busy."

Hermione nodded solemnly. "I know."

Just as Severus turned to investigate the next greenhouse, a crashing sound came from a nearby outbuilding.

"Well, now we know where Mister Longbottom is; shall we?" Severus asked.

Hermione met his gaze and nodded, drawing her wand as she followed him across a lovely garden whose only theme seemed to be purple, and towards the grey outbuilding. Severus stopped against the wall next to the door, his own wand in his hand. He cast a quick disillusionment spell over the both of them before looking back at her.

"Ready?" he asked.

" _Alohomora_ ," she murmured in place of an answer.

The door swung open and Severus squeezed in with Hermione on his heels. As her eyes adjusted to the light, Hermione kept one hand on Severus' back to follow him along the wall of shelves. He stopped suddenly and she ran into him. Peering around his disillusioned form out of habit rather than need, Hermione bit back a gasp as she saw Neville pacing back and forth in front of an expensive-looking cabinet. A cabinet that looked rather out-of-place in the dusty interior of what Hermione suspected was a storage shed. Granted, it was a very nice storage shed. In one of his arms, Neville was cradling a bunch of glimmering, golden items that chinked and clinkled together with every step he made. He was waving his other arm around in the air and muttering to himself quietly. Back and forth, back and forth he paced, sometimes quick steps and sometimes slow.

"He's gone nutters," Severus whispered.

"No," Hermione replied, just as quietly. "He's always done this. It's how he makes decisions."

"Hnnn." Severus' opinion on Neville's odd behavior was clearly expressed in his monosyllabic grunt. Hermione rolled her eyes, glad he couldn't see her do so as they continued to watch Neville pace in front of the cabinet. "What's he deciding?" Severus asked.

"Only one way to find out," Hermione said.

Before Severus could stop her, she cancelled the disillusionment spell and stepped into the middle of the shed. "Hullo, Neville," she said.

Neville spun around, the items in his arm almost tumbling out before he caught them with his free hand. Clutching whatever it was tight against his chest, Neville looked at Hermione with an expression of extreme guilt.

"H-Hermione?" he gulped out. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

Folding her arms over her chest, Hermione took a deep breath to maintain her cool. Now that she was here, facing him, she could feel her anger and deep sense of betrayal welling up inside of her. If she was right, and Neville was behind the prior night's burnings, she wasn't sure she could handle it. Tears stung her eyes and she cleared her throat, trying to convince her voice to say something, anything.

Suddenly Severus was there. His hand on her shoulder a comforting weight as he stared down his long nose at Neville and curled his lip in that all-too-familiar way of his.

"We are here because we have some questions for you, Mister Longbottom," Severus drawled.

Neville wilted before their eyes. Shoulders drooping, chin dropping and gaze fixed on the floor, he took a deep breath and nodded. "I was expecting something like this," he said. "I knew we couldn't get away with it forever."

Hermione's mouth dropped open as Neville sighed and turned around to open the door to the cabinet. Arm still cradling the shiny items to his chest, he reached into the cabinet and withdrew another item. Shaking his head, he added it to the pile and turned back around to face them.

"This is about last night, isn't it?" he asked.

The words were a sucker punch. Hermione's heart clenched in her chest and she wondered if the sudden pain was anything like what a heart attack felt like. A sound between a gasp and a sob escaped her lips and she took half a step towards Neville as he raised his gaze to meet hers. Severus stayed right beside her though she could feel the anger rolling off him in waves.

"Y-you," Hermione struggled to find the words. She pointed an accusing finger at the man she'd thought she'd known. "Fluxweed?"

For a moment Neville looked surprised but then he looked down at his armful of shiny objects and nodded. "Fluxweed? Oh, of course. I don't even know how you figured it out," he admitted quietly. "I was being so careful. Left no trace, not once. But of course, you've always been the brightest of us all, haven't you Hermione?"

"Not bright enough," she choked out. "Why did you do it?"

Neville offered her a half-sad smile and shook his head.

"I just wanted to help," he said simply, as though that was the only explanation needed.

Hermione felt Severus' control slip and had only a moment to wrap a restraining hand around his bicep before he lurched towards Neville and bellowed, "You burned down the fucking forest, you gormless gannet! How is that helping?"

"What?" In shock, Neville dropped the items he'd been holding. They shattered against the stone floor and a fine, pale sand creeped across the ground, seeming to have a mind of its own.

"Shit," Neville cussed, whipping his wand out with a dexterity Hermione hadn't seen on him since the war. "Don't let it touch you."

As the sand edged closer to each of them, chaos ensued. The door to the storage shed burst open, someone yelled, "Aurors!", Severus pushed Hermione behind him and Neville began flinging spells she'd never even heard of before.

* * *

 _ **Thank you to the guest reviewer who reminded me that I hadn't touched this story in nearly two months. It was exactly the catalyst I needed to get back into my writing chair and get this chapter published. My last two months have been... insane. Between me feeling insane (antidepressant number 2 did not work!) and actual things going bananas, I had to step back from writing and posting just to take care of me and mine.**_

 _ **Thanks so much to everyone who has stuck with me, though. I should be getting back on a somewhat more regular posting schedule (fingers crossed!) over the next few weeks. I truly appreciate you all for reading, following, favoriting and reviewing this story. You're a blessing to me.**_

 _ **Blessings!**_

 ** _PS: Neville-lovers, stick with me one more chapter... please?_**


	16. 16) March 21, 2000, Part 3

**.**

 **Chapter 16**

 **.**

 _ **March 21, 2000, Part 3**_

 _Longbottom's spellwork was much improved_. That was the only thought flitting through Severus' mind as he pressed Hermione against the rough-hewn stone wall behind him and blocked stray spells that bounced off Longbottom's shield. The young man was holding a silent _Protego_ while hollering strange spells that Severus could only guess the meaning of, his wand flicking between the aurors and the sand that was creeping ever closer to every person present. Curiously, Longbottom's spells towards the Aurors seemed to be more to impede their attack than to hurt them.

Behind him, Hermione was wiggling, pressing her hands into his back to try and get him to budge as she hollered at Potter and Longbottom and Severus alike to stop it and calm down. Severus, whose wand was in his hand but not being wielded with the flurry of activity the Aurors and Longbottom were engaged in, could only assume she hadn't meant to lump him in with the others.

"Don't let the sand touch you!" Longbottom screamed again, blasting a scarlet spell at Severus' feet where the fine grains of sand were sneaking towards his boots. They scattered but quickly reformed and resumed their slow crawl towards him.

"What the hell is it?" Severus demanded, pushing Hermione along the wall, further away from the sand. It didn't take a Potions Master to know you shouldn't let strange, sentient sand touch you.

"T-time sand," Longbottom hollered back.

Vaguely, Severus heard an Auror curse before Hermione snarled, "Oh for heaven's sake!" and fisted her hand in the back of Severus' shirt. She yanked him sideways–hard!–and stepped forward.

Tripping over his own boots, Severus had to cast a quick stabilizing spell before he wound up face first at the Aurors' feet. He stopped himself in time to turn around and see Hermione standing in front of them all, her hair haloed around her from the power of her magic as she silently, and wandlessly, conjured a containment bubble around each and every person in the room. That done, she flicked her wand out of its holster and into her hand and glared at the tiny particles that dared touch the tip of her boot.

" _Tempus Novali!"_ she shrieked.

"Merlin, Mione," someone whined from behind Severus, undoubtedly covering their ears to protect them from the high-pitched, veela-esque sound.

Severus would have covered his own ears, too, if he hadn't been so utterly focused on the raw power swirling around Hermione. She stood in the midst of the chaos of sand particles, looking like a vision wreathed in gold as she bent their sentience to her command and directed them back to the shattered pile of glass at Longbottom's feet. For his part, Longbottom had his mouth hanging open wide enough to catch a hippogriff and his brain only caught up to what was happening as one last, lone grain of sand bounced across the stone floor and joined its brothers in the pile of glass. With a swish and flick that would have made even Flitwick proud, Longbottom murmured a quick " _reparo"_ and the time turners reconstructed themselves instantly.

No one moved or spoke for what felt like minutes. Severus' eyes were glued to the witch panting in the middle of the room, her hair a chaotic mess and her face smudged, somehow, with potting soil. She, in turn, was staring at Longbottom with a look caught between murder and… no, Severus shook his head. She definitely looked like she was going to murder the young man. Before he could decide if he was going to help her or stop her, Harry of-course-he's-bloody-here Potter moved to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Hullo, Neville," Potter said calmly. "Want to tell me what you were up to last night?"

"He was eliminating every piece of fluxweed not in his greenhouses," Hermione muttered under her breath.

"Don't make me have Savage escort you outside, Hermione," Potter said, his voice holding an edge of steel. "You came to me with a problem and, as the Auror in charge of your case, I'm going to have to ask you to keep quiet and let me do my job."

Hermione blanched and turned away to rejoin Severus where he'd taken up residence against the wall once again. She was clearly still upset, though, because Severus overheard her muttering under her breath, "You wouldn't be here if you didn't think I was right, Potter."

Severus smirked and surreptitiously placed his own hand on her shoulder. Just in case she needed to be taken outside before she gave her friend a reason to charge her with something. He'd hate to have to explain her stay in Azkaban to the children.

Longbottom shuffled his feet and scratched the back of his head, looking everywhere but at Potter. "I…" the boy swallowed thickly and glanced at Hermione and Severus before looking back down at the pile of time turners. "I can't tell you, Harry. But I swear I would never destroy healthy vegetation."

Rolling his eyes, Severus growled at the boy, "This isn't the boy scouts, Longbottom. Potter's going to need more than a pinky promise to clear your name."

The man in question glared over his shoulder at Severus, clearly done with being interrupted. Taking note of the way Potter's wand hand twitched, Severus arched an eyebrow in return and gestured for him to continue. Potter rolled his eyes before turning back to face Longbottom.

"Snape's right, Neville. You're a suspect in a case dealing with the destruction of fluxweed crops. This is serious stuff and I'm going to need a proper alibi from you. Just," Potter ran a hand through his already messy hair and shook his head. "Just tell me what you were doing last night between the hours of eight and eleven. Please?"

"I c-can't," Longbottom nodded to himself, seeming to have come to a decision, and raised his head to meet Potter's gaze. "I'm sorry. I can't tell you. But I am willing to submit to a wand oath that what I was doing last night had nothing to do with fluxweed or... whatever it is you think I did."

Gesturing to the pile of time turners on the ground, Potter changed tactics. "What are you doing with all these time turners, then?"

"Oh, um… I was… those actually… well, I've been using time sand in controlled situations to… erm, to speed up the growth of certain lunar-reliant plants. T-to help with reforestation after the war. Do you know how many plant species were almost wiped out by the war? I mean, we actually lost the Frost-tipped Lunar Lilly and the Norwegian Nargumph… thought that one was really an invasive, so–"

"Get on with it, Potter," Severus snarled. Was it possible to feel one's brain cells dying? Because he certainly did feel that way every time Longbottom started rambling about plants.

"Yes, sir," Potter replied on instinct. "Where did you get all these time turners, Neville? I thought we decimated the supply in our fifth year?"

Longbottom's ears burned red and he, once again, looked at the ground. "I-er… I sort of took them then. I mean, a lot of them were shattered but the ones that fell on me just sort of… well, I tucked them in my robes in case we needed them. But… well, I was going to give them back. To th-the ministry… Now that the last of my seedlings are ready to be planted."

"Oh, Neville," Hermione murmured, shaking her head.

Pinching his nose in a way that Severus recalled being a regular expression of his own around Longbottom, Potter looked as though he was trying to will away a headache. For his part, Severus was already contemplating just how much headache remedy he would have to buy off Hermione to compensate for this day. Probably a cauldron-full...

"You are aware that you just admitted to stealing from the Ministry and experimenting with time, correct?" Potter asked.

Neville blanched, but nodded. "I do. But that's it, Harry. I promise that's it."

Shaking his head, Potter pulled out a pair of magical-suppression cuffs and took a couple steps closer to his former schoolmate. "We'll see. I'm sorry, Neville. But even if you give me an alibi for last night, I've got to take you in. You've admitted enough to–"

"Wait!"

Jumping at the feminine shriek that erupted behind them, everyone spun around, wands at the ready. Severus' jaw dropped as he stared at Pansy Parkinson. What in Salazar's name was she doing here? Pansy stood in the doorway of the outbuilding, clothed in a rumpled, half-off-the-shoulder purple dress and transfigured tennis shoes. She was breathing heavily, as though she'd just run several kilometers, and her hair was, quite frankly, a mess. Arching both eyebrows, Severus looked between Pansy and Hermione–who looked flabbergasted to see her employee there–and Potter, who was not quite as flabbergasted as Hermione but definitely looking as though he was done with the curveballs this day was throwing him.

It was Hermione who asked the obvious. "Pansy? What are you doing here?"

Before the Slytherin witch could answer, Neville cut in. "You don't have to. Pansy, it's okay. Just go back to the house."

Pansy shook her head, gasping for breath but obviously determined to get her piece out. "No, Neville–" Severus narrowed his eyes at the informal address. "Potter, Neville didn't do anything bad last night. At least, nothing that wasn't mutual. H-he was with me."

"You don't have to do this, Pans–" Neville started.

"Miss Parkinson," Potter interrupted. "Are you aware of what you're saying?"

Pansy nodded and straightened after finally catching her breath. "Yes, Potter. I am willing to present memories as evidence that Neville and I were together all night."

"But," Hermione broke in. "Pansy, you couldn't have been here. You were with Blaise."

Potter gaped at her. "Zabini?"

Calmly, as though she wasn't partially dressed and looking every bit as dishevelled as she was, Pansy adopted her perfect Pureblood air. "I was _not_ with Blaise last night. That man is as bent as spaghetti."

"But… but..." Hermione's hands were on her hips and she shrugged Severus' hand off her shoulder to face Pansy. "What about all the magazines? _What about Astoria_?"

Pansy snorted. "She's his beard. Keep up with the times, Granger."

"As lovely as this gossip session is," Severus interrupted, deciding he didn't care to hear any more about his former students' sexual proclivities. Especially not when he was just now realizing all those times catching Zabini out after curfew with other boys probably weren't the innocent boyish adventures he'd always believed. Shaking his head to clear that image away, Severus continued. "Perhaps we should get back to the matter at hand."

"Yes," Potter agreed, coming out of his shock-induced stupor. "Thank you, Snape. Pansy, can you be absolutely certain that Neville did not leave your side at any time between the hours of eight and eleven?"

She had the audacity to smirk and all but purred her response. "Oh, Potter, I would swear on it."

"But you don't even like one another!" Hermione said, gesturing between Pansy and Longbottom a little too wildly.

"Psh," Pansy waved Hermione off. "Of course I don't like Neville. I'm in love with him."

Severus' jaw dropped and Hermione staggered back against his chest, her hand to her heart, as everyone in the room gaped at Pansy. It was a joke. Surely. And to think he'd been trying to clear his mind of Zabini's sexual exploration in his dungeon classroom… now Severus had to deal with the idea of Longbottom actually having a sex life as well. Auror Savage mumbled something about a "Slytherdor" romance but was hushed by Potter's glare. From behind him, Severus heard a very small, timid voice repeat Pansy's words.

"Y-you love me?"

Every head turned to see a flushed Neville staring wide-eyed at the woman in the doorway. Silhouetted by the bright blue sky and green grass visible through the door, Pansy's features weren't very clear at all. But she nodded and took a tentative step forward.

"I didn't want to say it first but…" her voice trailed off and it was then that Severus noticed the tear tracks on her face. "When the house elves told me Potter had come to take you away I just couldn't… I-I couldn't."

Neville smiled. A wide, bright smile that said he felt like the king of the world. "I love you, too. In fact…"

Looking almost sheepish, Neville wandlessly _accio'd_ a small black box from the pile of time turners and strode confidently past Hermione, Potter, Savage and Severus. Squaring his shoulders, Neville dropped to one knee in front of a very-miffed Pansy and caught her hand in one of his.

"This isn't how I planned it," he said, popping the lid on the box and staring earnestly up into her face. "And I know it's only been a couple of dates. But Pansy, I've been in love with you since the first time you knocked my books out of my arms in school. And before Harry hauls me away for time-tampering, I'd be honored it if you would consent to being my wife."

"Damn," Potter cursed. "How am I supposed to arrest him now?"

Severus snorted. "I think that was his plan."

"Shhh!" Hermione flapped her hand at both of them and sniffled, staring at Neville and Pansy with suspiciously moist eyes.

For her part, Pansy looked every bit as pale as one of Sanguini's victims. Mouth flapping like a door in the wind, she stared back and forth between the stunning black diamond ring and Neville's face. Finally, she seemed to find her voice and she whispered, "Th-that's my grandmother's ring."

"Yes," Neville affirmed.

"But how?" Pansy gasped. "Mother sold it years ago to pay for her booze. I've searched the world trying to get it back."

Neville shrugged. "I started a potion's supply company so you'd notice me. Do you think I wouldn't scour the world to find the one ring that I knew you wanted?"

Both Pansy and Hermione sniffled and Severus curled his lip. Damn Longbottom and his Gryffindor sense of inappropriate timing! Why couldn't he have lied and waited to take Pansy out to a nice dinner or fly her around the world or propose in any other way Merlin could imagine that didn't involve him having to witness it?

Clearing his throat, Neville waved the ring in the air. "Still kneeling."

Pansy laughed, a half-choked, joyous sound that sounded like geese honking to Severus. She nodded furiously and pulled Longbottom up off the floor to kiss him. "Of course I'll marry you!"

As the couple slobbered all over one another, Severus buried his face in one hand and shook his head. To think that it was only mid-morning…

"Wait a minute," Hermione said.

The celebratory snog-fest stopped and Neville and Pansy turned to look at Hermione, Neville's arm curling protectively over his witch's shoulders. "Yes?" they asked as one.

"If you didn't burn the fluxweed sites last night, who did?" Hermione asked.

Everyone glanced around the room at one another and Potter shrugged. "I have a couple other suspects on my list. It might take a few days, but I believe Savage and I can narrow it down."

"I think, perhaps, I could be of assistance with that, Mister Potter," a drawling, pompous voice that Severus knew all too well came from the doorway.

"Luci," Severus said, not even to bother looking at his blond friend. "You always did know how to avoid the drama."

It took every skill in occlumency Severus possessed to not bark out a laugh when Hermione, still pressed against his chest, murmured sourly, "More like bring it…"

* * *

 _ **Hey, I actually updated this story! I am so sorry for the wait on this... this chapter was a pain in my patoot and I've been fighting with edits what feels like every day for months. It doesn't really help that I've also been rather preoccupied with real life adoption paperwork. I'm going to be a mum! Eventually. :L)**_

 _ **Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this update. The end is a little... well, it's a little something but I liked it and I finally decided that that was enough for me. I believe I should update this soon but, with RL so chaotic and busy right now, I can't promise to return to my weekly schedule. Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with this story. To those who have read, followed, favorited and reviewed. You guys and gals are seriously the best.**_

 _ **Blessings.**_


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